When Mourning Comes
by GingerWithaSoul17
Summary: Into the night, we descend, From your heart the life to rend. Phantom stalker, like a cat, You're in our maze, poor little rat. We're harbingers, of the end, With two crossed daggers, dripping red. We raise our hands, our blades gleam, and through the night, not a scream. And when all is done, and the unworthy sleep, Unholy matron, our souls will keep.
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Wind rustles the soft pine needles around me. Light sparkles off an amber drop of tree sap near my feet. Somewhere, a bird caws, and takes flight. The sound is unexpected, and I shift slightly. The edge of my boot nudges a pile of snow, and it falls off the branch, fifteen feet to the ground. I wince. Not that there was anyone around to be affected by my mistake, but still. The prey must be unaware that it's being hunted. For the hunter to simply be invisible isn't enough; the prey must feel at ease to ensure that the kill will go well.

My prideful side suddenly makes an appearance, and scoffs at my self-berating conscience. Without another thought I leap into the air with a soft _whoosh_. I land on a lower branch with barely a sound, and scan the area around me. In quick succession I leap again, to a lower branch, on top of a mossy boulder, and then alight softly on the ground. I straighten up, and stretch vigorously. I wince as my back cracks. _Crouching in trees may be wonderfully sneaky, but it really doesn't do anything for my posture_. I straighten my bow on my back, and check the arrows in my quiver. I grin, pleased. _That has got to be a mark of agility, to be able to leap around indiscriminately, and to not lose any arrows_. Still smiling to myself, I start walking down a rough dirt trail. It's covered by a thin, barely visible layer of snow, but I don't bother to hide my footprints. Unless someone were to come looking for me in the next half hour, any trace of my passing would already be covered under two inches of fresh white flakes. _ This is Skyrim, by Talos. It snows here like it, well, doesn't snow in the Alik'r desert. _

The dirt path suddenly veers sharply to the right, towards what seems to be a rocky hill. And through the thickly wooded forests of Falkreath hold, no one would think that it was anything besides that. I walk closer to it, and I see the dark glint of the cold, black door gleaming in the sunlight. I round a last, sharp corner, and I'm face to face with the skull-embossed entrance to my sanctuary. I reach for the handle, and, as always, it refuses to budge. And right on cue, not a second later, a high, raspy voice cuts through the otherwise bright and pleasant day. The speaking door has always creeped me out a bit.

_What is the music of life? _I wince slightly as the voice cuts into my skull. I can never really tell if it's actually speaking, or if it's just inside my head.

"Silence, my brother." I answer, trying to feign somberness. The high, rasping voice replies. _Welcome, home._ Gee, thanks man. I push against the cold, heavy metal. It slowly opens, the old hinges screeching like a banshee.

With the unpleasant sound of the door's voice still reverberating in my head, I step inside the sanctuary. I feel the smooth stone beneath my thin leather boots. It's so much more pleasant to walk on than the icy ground outside. Silently, I step down the stairs. I hear the soft _drip, drip, _as water droplets fall onto the stone ground from a small hole in the ceiling.

I breathe in deeply. The sanctuary has a very unique smell. Ice, and pine from outside, mixed with the surprisingly warm and living smell of plant life, and earth. _It's strange, that a place like this would smell so strongly of life, and growth_. I exhale, and close my eyes for a brief moment, enjoying the feeling of home. A pointed cough draws me out of my reverie. I can tell by the voice exactly who it is. Without opening my eyes, I raise my eyebrows.

"Yes?" I ask. Deafening silence. I smirk, and open my eyes. _Ha! I knew it_. There, leaning against Astrid's desk and glaring tiny pointed daggers at me, was Gabriella.

"How did you fare?" She asks, icily. "Gaius Maro," I answer, sweeping my hand in a flourish, "lies dead!" Yet again, that ringing, deafening silence. I drop my hand, and let out a sigh. "Come on Gabriella, give me something here." She rolls her eyes. "Daanik, why are you standing in the middle of the sanctuary, with your eyes closed, looking like a sleepy horker?"

I look down, my hood shielding my face from view, debating whether I should say something sarcastic and ultimately disarming, or of I should actually tell her the truth. There's always been something about Gabriella that makes me feel somewhat guilty, of the half-truths and veils of sarcasm I put forth. _Ha! An assassin with a conscience. Funny. I'm a funny guy. _ I wait a minute before answering, and decide to tell the truth.

"I'm glad to be home. Truthfully." I look up. Her ruby eyes soften. She looks down, and plays with one of the many iron daggers that seem to appear on Astrid's desk. _I swear, they're reproducing._ "Well I am glad that you are back. Gaius Maro was one of the more difficult contracts you have completed, so I am pleased that you are alright."

She looks down again, and I can't help but smile. I open my mouth to say something, but I never get the chance. A deceptively soft voice from the staircase interrupts me. "Daanik." I turn to look at the source of the voice. A tall, lean, blonde woman is standing at the top of the staircase, leaning against the wall.

"How'd it go?" Her voice is like silk draped over steel. It gives the impression of kindness, but remains cold and calculating beneath the surface. And yet, she's not scary enough to dissuade me from a few quips. No one ever is. "Astrid!" I greet her. "Good news! Gaius Maro, lies dead!" I make the same, swooping hand motion, and look up expectantly. My efforts are met with raised eyebrows.

I sigh again. "You people have no sense of drama." I look over my shoulder, and see Gabriella smiling slightly. "Aha!" I exclaim. "I saw that! That was a smile!" Astrid rolls her eyes. _People do that a lot around me_. "Don't encourage him, Gabriella." She drawls lightly. "I think it is far too late for that, Astrid. He is already a lost cause." Gabriella replies, sighing dramatically, and shaking her head. "Anyway, I have some work to do with Festus." Her black and red robes swish as she glides down the stairs, into the main part of the sanctuary.

"Speaking of Festus," Astrid says, "go talk to him." Wonderful. Thank you so much for that detailed set of instructions, matron. "What does Julianos himself want this time?" I ask. Astrid raises a questioning eyebrow.

"Well, he's old." I explain. "Julianos is the god of magic, right? And since he's a god, he's probably been around a while. Which means Festus is old, if he's Julianos, because…oh, never mind. Forget it." I finish sullenly.

"Festus Krex is a brilliant magician and assassin, and you'd do well to remember it." Astrid replies, crossing her arms.

I kick a loose rock near my boot. "He's still old and grumpy." I mutter. "He's an invaluable part of this family!" Astrid exclaims, as I make my way down the staircase.

"He's a curmudgeon!" I hiss back up the stairs. I think I hear a quiet chuckle from behind me, but it must just be my imagination. Astrid doesn't laugh. And even if she did, I'm sure it would be a terrifying, and probably sickly, sound.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

"You reek of death my friend! I salute you!" Nazir's booming, familiar greeting echoes against the stony walls of the sanctuary. I look around, trying to find the source of the voice. I scan the large room, looking for the tell-tale flash of a red cloak, or the glint of a scimitar. No sign of him.

"What…are you doing?" I ask, slightly confused. I wait another few moments. _By the nine…_I roll my eyes and continue walking. I hear a whispering sound right above me, and without warning, a red flash drops to the ground in front of me. My daedric daggers are out in a flash, before I can stop myself. The large Redguard straightens up, and cracks his neck.

"Learn a new trick, did we?" I ask, sheathing my weapons. He grins back, wolfishly.

"You have no idea how long I've been up there." His rich, measured voice contrasting with the childish excitement in his eyes.

"How did you manage it?" I inquire, looking up at the ceiling curiously. "And, dare I ask, _why_?" There are precious few ledges or vines to hang on to, and even those are impossible to reach. Not even Veezara with his claws can climb the sanctuary's slick, stone walls.

"Now, now." He answers, waggling his finger petulantly. "An artist never reveals his methods. And as for why, well, between you and me, Astrid and Gabriella bathe in the waterfall regularly." He winks slyly. "And you'd be surprised how scarcely people tend to look up." To my own surprise, I don't laugh immediately. Nazir and I could usually go on and on about women and their assets, but right now, all I feel is annoyance at his disrespect. I recover quickly, however, and force a smile through gritted teeth. The redguard doesn't seem to notice.

"Anyway, I've got a few extra contracts I can kick your way, if you're interested." I consider his offer. On the one hand, I know Festus has a job for me, and if I don't take it immediately, I'll have Astrid, in all her sympathetic, understanding, humane glory, to deal with. But on the other hand, Nazir's jobs were easy, fun, and pretty well-paid. I could use a light hunt after stalking that Maro milk drinker from Aetherius to Oblivion.

I grin at him, and nod. "Sure, I'll take a job. Fuck Astrid and that old curmudgeon, I need some fun." Nazir's laugh booms through the sanctuary, and he claps me on the back. "Now that's the spirit! I've got two contracts lined up. One is a wood elf, named Anoriath. He works the Drunken Huntsman in Whiterun. The other is a tad more difficult, a vampire named Hern. But he should be no match for someone like you, my friend."

I grin again, and nod. Finally, some relaxation. I deserve it too, after all, all I've been doing for the past few weeks is working. Running menial errands for Jarls, slaying every dragon I come across, and not to mention getting that damn Elder Scroll out of Blackreach. Now that was a bitch to do. Those Falmer are just…gross. They're not too hard to kill, but for the love of Mara, they smell like the Ratway. Completely ignoring the fact that Blackreach could easily accommodate Solitude, Markarth, and most of Windhelm within it's cavernous expanses. I must have been wandering around in that hole for days. Plus, it's as dark as all Oblivion. I'm surprised I ever made it out at all.

I thank Nazir, and turn around to head out again. Thankfully, Astrid isn't leaning against the door anymore. _She's probably in her office, eating a baby, or whatever it is that Astrid does in her free time._

As I walk, I look over my shoulder to make sure that neither Astrid nor Festus is watching me. In the alchemy and magic corner, I see a flash of red robes, and Gabriella's face. She's bent over the table, reading a book, and prodding at a pile of leaves and flowers. Her face is scrunched up in annoyance, almost indignant at the fact that the leaves don't seem to be cooperating with her. I can't help but smile at her expression. As I do, my foot catches on something, and I stumble. Completely dumbstruck, I look down at my boots.

What in Oblivion was that? Did I just…trip? Was that what that was? No way. I haven't tripped since…ever. I'm a goddamn master of stealth, a living fucking shadow for the love of Talos! There must be something wrong with my boots. Yea, that's it. My boots need repairing. I'll make a stop at Adrianne's in Whiterun, before I take care of Anoriath. Or, better yet, I'll see if Anbjorn is here. He may be a bit awkward to talk to, but hey, he's great with steel. A thought crosses my mind, but I dismiss it contemptuously. No way did Gabriella's face make me trip. I scoff at myself. I'm smoother than that.

I turn back around, and head to Arnbjorn's smithing nook. Sure enough, there he is, scraping away at a piece of leather.

"Hello, morsel." He greets me. Morsel. Really. Just a tad awkward. "Hello…dog meat." I reply. I try not to laugh. _That was funny._ _I amuse myself_.

The werewolf stops cutting his sheet of leather, and looks at me, raising an eyebrow. "Dog meat?" He laughs, roughly. "You're no coward. I like you." He goes back to shaping his leather. "Now, is there anything you need?"

I reach down, and unbuckle one of my Dark Brotherhood issue boots. "Yea, actually, can you repair these? Maybe improve them a bit, if you've got the time?" He looks up at my boot, and squints at it. "I guess. There's not really anything wrong with it, but I can patch up a few of those scuffs, if you like." I nod, unbuckle the other boot, and hand the pair to him. "Come back tomorrow." He says, throwing me a spare pair of light, leather boots. I thank him, and pull them on. Before I leave, I buy a few steel arrows, and toss him some extra septims for the repairs.

Finally, I make my way out of the sanctuary, carefully sneaking past Astrid's office. _Wouldn't want her to hear me, and then kill me brutally and slowly._ I straighten up, walk up the stairs, and out the black door. I wince as it screeches open. _Stealthy_. I slip out, and quickly walk up the path, into the forest. When I get to a safe distance, I slow down. I throw off my hood, and let the wind blow through my long, auburn hair. I walk a while longer, until I come to a cliff. I sit down, and lean my chin on my hands. I look up at the sky.

It's gotten dark since I entered the sanctuary this morning. The night sky is beautiful, and showered with stars. The aurora stretches as far as I can see, streaks of blood red soaring across the sky, hovering over the majestic, rolling mountains of Skyrim. Far in the distance, I see the Throat of the World, the tallest mountain in Tamriel. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. It comes out as mist. A cold breeze ruffles my hair, and I close my midnight blue eyes. I breathe in deeply. The air smells of of pine, and cold streams, and ice. _Cyrodil was beautiful, with it's wide plains and lush forests, but it's nothing compared to the majesty of Skyrim_.

With some surprise, I realize that I don't want to go back. I'm at home here, in the northland. More than I ever was in the Imperial province. I sigh contentedly, and let my thoughts wander. Before I realize it, my eyes are closing.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

Heat. It's…hot. It's so hot. Flames dance in front of my eyes. I jerk up, and rub them. I don't understand what's going on. My mattress is on fire. I jump off the bed, and run into the kitchen.

"Da! Ma!" I yell. "Where are you! Where are you!" I hear loud, rough voices from outside. Suddenly, a hand grabs the back of my collar, and jerks me into my parents room. I cry out, but quickly stop, as I realize it's my mother. She puts a finger to her lips. I nod, eyes wide, scared into silence. Her face is a mask of fear. We crouch down in the corner, behind the bed. I close my eyes, and pray to Akatosh for it to end.

Then, blessedly, silence. I open my eyes, and start to get up. The crackling of the flames is all that's left. Then, the night is rent in two. A scream, so loud and full of pain. I don't know what to think. I recognize that voice.

"Father!" I scream. "Father! Da!" I hear footsteps running toward the room. My mother squeezes me tightly. She gets up, and sets me on the edge of the window above us.

"Look into my eyes." She whispers. "I love you. Run." And pushes me. Tears stream down my face, and I do run, as fast as I can. I look back though. A man is in the room, but it's not my father. His hair is long and brown, and greasy. His eyes are black and beady, and he has a huge scar from his right eye down to his chin. He grins, revealing broken teeth. I see him raise a sword. My eyes widen. I can't even scream. The blade flashes down, and blood spatters the wall next to him. "NO!"

My eyes flash open, and I bolt upright, daggers in hand. I'm breathing hard. My body is slick, covered in a layer of cold sweat. I look around wildly, scanning the clearing for any unseen attackers. The realization hits me: _It was just a dream. Just a dream._ I sheathe my daggers, and sit down, hard. I'm still breathing heavily.

I put my face in my hands, and try to calm down. _I wish it were only a dream_. I hear a quiet rustling from behind me. I whirl around, and pull out my daggers again.

"Daanik?" A soft voice calls out. Surprised, I look closer. A shape walks slowly, carefully, out from among the shadows of the trees, a shape cloaked in black and red. "Gabriella?" I call out, astonished. "Is that you? What are you doing here?" She crosses the distance between us.

"May I sit with you?" She asks, quietly. "Yea, of course." I answer, motioning to the general area of the small overhang. She sits down next to me. I'm surprised by her proximity. If we were to both look at each other, our noses would almost touch. She throws back her hood, revealing her long, silky hair. Strangely enough, I realize that I've never seen it before. It's a beautiful color. It's pale, like fresh snow. It falls in a curtain, hiding the side of her face from view. All I can see are her lips.

"I was out looking for alchemy ingredients, for a potion I'm trying to make. It has been giving me trouble all day." She shifts slightly. She seems nervous. "Anyway, I heard a scream, and recognized your voice."

She pauses, and bites her lip. "Daanik…is everything alright?" I look down, and nod. "Yea. Yea, I'm okay. Just a dream." I realize that I've been sitting awkwardly, poised to stand up. I shift my weight back, and lay my hands in my lap, playing with the leather of my gloves. I hide my face in the depths of my hood.

We sit like that, in silence, for a while. "You know, you can tell me, if you want. I will listen." She says, quietly. I look up for a brief moment, and then down again, wrestling with the decision. But something gives way inside of me, and before I can stop myself, the words are spilling out.

"When I was very young, my parents moved to Cyrodil, from Skyrim. They were farmers, and the land was better there. We were poor, but it was a good life. We loved each other. One night, when I was about seven, I woke up, and the house was on fire. I couldn't find my parents, until my mother grabbed me from behind, and hid both of us in her and my fathers room. I could hear yelling from outside, but I don't know what it was. I remember my father's voice. I think he was fighting. I was so confused and scared. Then I heard a scream, and…the fighting sounds stopped. I thought, I hoped, that my da had killed whoever was out there, and that we were safe. But my mother knew better. She pushed me out the window, and told me to run."

I pause, for a second, and swallow hard. Gabriella wraps her arm around my shoulders, comforting. I feel her eyes on me, as I continue,

"And I did run. As fast as I could. But I looked back. I…I shouldn't have. A man had kicked in the door, and was standing over my ma. I saw him raise his sword, and…" I squeeze my eyes shut. Gabriella makes a soft sound, and wraps her other arm around me. My shoulders are shaking. I haven't thought about this in years. Am I crying?

I try to keep the tears at bay. Without really realizing it, I lean my head against her shoulder, and she leans back against me. We sit like that for a while. I don't know how long. I can't keep the tears away anymore. She starts humming something, a soft, lilting tune. It sounds like a lullaby. Gradually, my shoulders stop shaking. We sit a while longer. After a few minutes, I look up at her. Our eyes meet, and I feel something shift between us.

"Thank you." I whisper. "I'm sorry, I-" She presses her finger against my lips. "Don't apologize. You did nothing wrong." She smiles, and I smile back. The moonlight illuminates her smooth, dark skin. _She's really beautiful_. I tear my eyes away from her, and I look up at the sky to keep myself from staring at her. I don't even notice as she stands up.

"I actually have to get return to the sanctuary." She says. "I am sorry, but my potion is on the burner, and it could explode…" Her look is so apologetic, that I chuckle. She pauses, then does too. Her lilting laugh is so infectious, I start laughing harder. Soon, we're both sitting there, rocking back and forth, laughing like idiots. After a few minutes, we calm down. Suddenly, she bends down, and kisses my cheek. Shocked, I look up at her.

"See you soon, Daanik." She whispers. She turns around, and walks back towards the sanctuary. I try to form words, but my normally silver tongue fails me. "Goodbye." I whisper, but she's already gone. My hand moves up to touch the place she kissed. I don't know what to think. But I feel…something. I'm happy. I smile, and look back up at the sky. The world has never looked so beautiful to me.

I don't sleep for the rest of the night. Right as the sun starts peeking over the jagged mountaintops on the horizon, I get up. I brush the dust off my armor, and start walking again. I think of the hunt ahead, but to my surprise, I'm not looking forward to it as much anymore. No, I want to be back at the sanctuary. I want to see Gabriella again. A grin stretches across my face, and I walk faster. I feel light, and confident. Bring it on, vampire. Right now, I'm fucking invincible.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

The lock clicks. The heavy wooden door swings open, without a sound. Body tense, ready for a fight, I slowly make my way into the house. All is silent in the small building. By the light of the moon streaming in through the doorway, I see a figure sitting in a chair. A man. His head is down, with his chin resting against his chest. His arm hangs limply at his side, his fingers inches away from a book that's laying on the ground. He must have been reading, and then fallen asleep and dropped it. I scan the small room; no one else is in sight. _ That must be Hern._

I relax, and make my way over to his slumped form, not too carefully. My boots are Dark Brotherhood issue, and enchanted with the spirit of stealth. _Not that I can't be silent by myself, it's just that there's no need to. These boots muffle ever sound I make. _

A glint on top of the bookshelf in front of the vampire catches my eye. I walk over to it, and try to find the source of the sparkle. With mild surprise, I notice a small but significant pile of gemstones, pushed all the way to the back of the shelf. _I wonder why he keeps this tiny shack. He could easily just sell it along with these gems, and buy himself a nice house in Windhelm, or Solitude. Bigger feeding grounds, and all that. Oh well_. I smirk to myself, and pocket the gems. _Not that he'll get the chance to do so now. _

I step back, and the floor creaks, loudly. I freeze. _What in Oblivion…shit_. The realization hits me like a hammer blow: My boots. I'm not wearing the silencing boots, I'm wearing the damn leather ones Arnbjorn gave me. I curse under my breath. Damn Gabriella, making me trip like that. My face pales as I realize something else: vampires have inhuman hearing. Forcing down my panic, I crouch down instinctively. Just as I go to turn around, a flicker of movement catches my eye. No time to react. I look up, and see the flash of a sword pommel as it makes it's way towards my skull.

_Ah…fuck_. _That's bright. _ I force my eyes open, groggily. I try to rub them, but I can't move my arms. I slowly come to the unpleasant realization that my hands are tied above me. I try to make out my surroundings. At first, all I can see are dark splotches against a bright light. I blink, and shake my head. Gradually, the shapes come into focus. A hand, holding something. A cloth, and a knife. Without warning, a sharp, clear pain stabs through my skull. I groan, and close my eyes again. I hear a malicious chuckle from somewhere in front of me.

"Look who's awake." A dull sounding voice drawls at me. It sounds like it's chewing on the individual words before spitting them out. Even through my pain, I feel slightly annoyed at the un-originality of the voice's statement. I laugh inwardly, somewhat bitterly. _For the love of Mara, Daanik, you're fucking insane, you know that? _ Something hard, probably a fist, connects with the side of my face, and I grunt in pain and surprise. The metallic taste of blood pervades my mouth.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" the voice roars. I spit, and glare at my attacker. Of course, it was the vampire, Hern. _Actually, to be honest, technically I'm his attacker. Oh well._ I study his face. He lacks the refinement that I've seen in most vampires. His hair is unkempt and greasy, his teeth are yellow and rotting, and his chin is covered in dirty stubble. _Babette would be disgusted_. He holds up his knife.

"I'm cleaning this, just for you." He smiles disgustingly. "We're gonna have some fun together." He spits in his rag, and goes back to polishing the knife. I give it a contemptuous glance.

"Do you really have to spit on it?" I ask. "You know, diseases and all. Don't wanna catch anything! And you my friend, look just disease-ridden." His fist connects with my chin again. _Damn, he's fast._ I groan.

"Come on. Use your words, man." I wince at my own joke. _Why, WHY do I keep prodding the angry bear? _ He growls, and without warning, the knife flashes. I can't contain myself. A scream bursts through my lips, and my fingers twitch and spasm with pain. He twists the knife embedded in my palm viciously. I scream again, and he cackles. He yanks the knife out with a sharp wrench, and I slump forward, my eyes shut.

"That'll teach you." He grunts. I let out a groan, against my own will. When nothing else happens, I force my eyes open. Hern is standing at the fireplace, with his back to me. "You tried to steal from me." He says, accusingly.

"Actually," I cough. "I was going to steal from you, and then kill you. Sorry big guy." _By the nine, I'm just a self-destructive mess. I really should talk to someone about my insanity._ Hern grunts something unintelligible from the fireplace. "What was that, buddy?" I ask. I close my eyes again, and groan inwardly. _ I just don't have a mental filter_. Hern doesn't reply. After a few moments, he turns around, grinning wickedly. The knife in his hand is glowing red hot.

"You're going to pay!" He says, in a disturbing sing-song voice that really doesn't suit his lumbering stature, and advances towards me.

_Gabriella's POV_

I play with the petals on a deathbell flower nervously. Where is Daanik? He has been gone for almost five days, should he not be back by now? I feel eyes on me, and I glance up. Babette is looking at me, a question in her eyes.

"What is it?" I ask, my voice coming out harsher than I intended. I give the child-vampire an apologetic glance. She walks over to the shelf, and rummages for something.

"What's on your mind, princess?" She asks. I frown slightly. She is quite aware that that nickname is extremely annoying, not to mention untrue.

"I am not a princess." I mutter. She scoffs slightly. "Well, you've been acting like one for weeks now. All quiet and shy, ever since Daanik got here. Where's that unicorn-stabbing girl I remember?" She looks at me, her eyes narrowed. I pointedly ignore her question, and motion towards the pool at the back of the room.

"If you're looking to feed your terrible pet, the sweetrolls are in the bottom drawer." I absolutely detest spiders, especially Babette's. They are so hairy and bristly. Normally they do not bother me very much, because I can kill them if I wish. _But no, Babette loves her little creature too dearly. _

Her face clears up. "Ohh okay. Thanks princess!" She bends down, and tugs at the specified drawer. "Anyway, about Daanik." She continues. I look up, feigning ignorance. "What about him?" I pretend to busy myself with the deathbell. Babette looks back at me, and gives me a look. "What?" I ask again, my eyes wide, the picture of innocence.

She rolls her eyes. "Don't bullshit me, Gabriella. You get all… girly, and well, not murderous, around him. And that's weird, because you're pretty damn bloodthirsty." I sigh. "You know, Babette, it really is quite strange to hear such foul language from such an adorable little child." I say, winking at her. Unperturbed, the child-vampire answers, "Speaking of strange, how did you ever get into the Brotherhood? You're a terrible liar. Oblivion, you're more of an open book than Festus's book on lockpicking."

I frown at her less-than-stellar attempt at humor. "That was…terrible. I am disappointed in you, Babette." I say, shaking my head. She coughs, slightly embarrassed. "Yea, that was bad, wasn't it? But…" She continues, "You know who always makes some pretty damn funny quips? And who would be even more disappointed in me? Daanik."

She glares at me, annunciating his name loudly. I sigh, conceding defeat. "Fine. I don't know how I feel about Daanik. He is…deeper, than other men. He is not as unthinking as he seems." I smile to myself. "And he is a remarkable assassin! To slaughter Gaius Maro right in front of Caste Dour and still remain unseen, is, well, a work of art." I realize that I am staring into thin air, a bit wistfully. _Damn_.

I look at Babette carefully, and I can tell she saw my stare. She is grinning widely. "Yea, there's that, and he's totally gorgeous." I stare at her in shock. "Babette!" I exclaim.

She laughs. "He is! He's tall and muscular, with that long, dark red hair and those deep blue eyes, and that powerful, dragonborn voice. Not to mention that mark down the side of his face. He's hot." She finishes. Now she is the one staring wistfully.

I clear my throat, once, and then again, louder this time. The child vampire doesn't notice. "Babette!" I call. She snaps out of her daydream. "Huh? What? Sorry, I was daydreaming." I roll my eyes at her, and she laughs. "In all seriousness though, are you interested in him?" She asks.

I look down, and hide my face in my hood. "I…I don't know. I think I am, but…I do not know. He has been gone for a very long time, Babette. I do not know if I am interested in him, but I do know that I am worried." I look up at her, and she sighs.

"Come on, princess. Let me finish feeding Lis, and we'll go." I smile gratefully. "Thank you. You are a good friend." She grins back. "Don't I know it, sweetie. We'll probably find him at some inn, lazing about and drinking it up. He's okay, don't worry." I nod, and look down. Babette is right. And yet…I bite my lip, and shake my head. No, she's right. That is all that there is to it. I get up, and grab my finally finished potion. I know that he's not hurt, he's not. But…if he is, then this will help immensely. "I shall wait for you by the door, Babette." I say, grabbing my knapsack of potions, poisons, and ingredients. She grunts a sound of approval. I cast a worried look towards the entrance to the sanctuary, hoping against hope that Daanik might be walking in the door. I sigh, and turn away again. _Oh, I hope he's alright._


	5. Chapter 5

**Just wanted to quickly thank Freefall for his/her review. I can see how having giant, clumped up paragraphs must be hard on the eyes. Let me know if this chapter is better organized. Any and all constructive criticism is always appreciated. Enjoy!**

CHAPTER 5

_ Gabriella's POV_

The forest speeds by in a green-brown flash. I focus on the barely audible _thump, thump, thump_ of Babette's and my feet against the soft ground, and settle myself into the rhythm of the run. I scan the ground ahead of us for any sign of Daanik's passing. Here and there I see a print, or a broken tree branch, where one should not exist, reassuring me that we are on the correct path. Every now and then, I mentally ensure that we are still heading towards Hern's cottage.

Daanik traveled directly, and quickly, as there have so far been no signs of him stopping anywhere. Without any problems, he would easily have made it to the cottage within a day. I suppress my nervousness, and stare straight ahead. Babette is right, Daanik is most likely out celebrating, taking it easy after his kill.

After about half an hour, Babette and I slow down to a walk. I long to continue running, preferably as fast as I can, but an unspoken agreement passes between us; there is no use in tiring ourselves. If Daanik does need our help, we would do well to save our strength for him.

I sigh. _Why am I so worried about the man? _I wrestle with the conundrum for a minute, but eventually give up. I murmur a quiet prayer to Sithis. _Please, please. Let him be unhurt._

The rest of the trip passes painfully slowly, and without interruption, save for a quick stop on my part to pick a few stalks of Blisterwort. Approximately every half hour we switch, either running or walking. I'm extremely ill at ease while running, but the walking is simply torturous. By nightfall, I can barely stand it. I sigh, and, for what seems like the fiftieth time today, try to let go of my worry. We're almost there anyway.

After a few more minutes, the cottage comes into sight. I wrinkle my nose in distaste. _I can smell it from here. And it is definitely more of a run-down shack than a cottage. _

Babette and I crouch down, and make our way towards the shack. She sneaks around back, making sure that there is only the one entrance, and then nods to me. Slowly, silently, _torturously_, I make my way towards the house. Once there are only a few yards left to go, I stop for a moment, and flick my wrists. Two small, flickering flames fill my palms. I relax a bit. Just as a familiar dagger or bow feels good in one's hand, the warm glow of a flame is comforting to me.

Without thinking, I glance up at one of the dirty windows, and catch a flicker of movement. I pause for a moment, then my eyes widen, and my stomach clenches. _There should be no one alive in that house. Daanik should have killed anyone days ago. _Babette sees my face, and even her pale complexion takes on a sickly pallor. She saw the flicker as grips me in it's iron hand; I can't think straight. _Oh gods, Daanik_!

I jump up, and kick open the door. A man, with long, greasy hair and broken teeth stares at me in surprise. He recovers quickly however, and hurls the knife in his hand at my chest. I duck, but the blade catches me in the shoulder, slicing a jagged cut into the flesh.

I gasp, but don't pause. I let the innate energy, heat, and _anger_ course through my veins, down my arm, and out my palm in a torrent of flame. The man jerks up his bare arms to shield his face, and howls in pain. With my other hand, I will the fire to grow, to become as unstable as possible before I throw it at him, in a scorching missile of heat. With a crash, his body is thrown against and through the back wall of the shack. I hear a sickening crunch as his body hits the ground, and a scream of pain. Without pausing, I leap through the hole after him, landing nimbly just inches to his right.

I straighten up, and survey the damage. The man's legs are twisted at an impossible angle. _He will not be walking anywhere soon. _His mouth is slightly open, and his eyes are unfocused. I lean over his prone form, and slap him in the face.

"Look at me!" I bark. I slap him again, and his eyes grow a bit sharper. "Where is he." I hiss. He grins, his mouth bloody. I slap him again. "Answer me, worm!" He lets out a sound, half laugh, half groan.

"We had so much fun." He giggles maniacally, and continues, in a terrifying singsong voice, "Soooo much fun!"

At Hern's words, my control disappears. My even, calm demeanor cracks. My vision flashes blood red, and a hiss of pure hatred escapes my lips. My blood is boiling, and I channel all my fury, all my hate, and all my utter fear into my right hand. I look down at my palm. It's glowing white-hot, and sparking furiously. Hern's eyes widen in terror and apprehension, and I grin widely, relishing his fear. _You wanted murderous, Babette? I will show you murderous. _I hold up my hand, only inches away from the man's eyes, forcing him to accept his fate. I look into his eyes, and savor the unspoken plea there.

"Scream." I whisper, and grab his face tightly. His broken cry of undiluted agony echoes through the forest. I smile.

I extinguish the fire in my palm, and try to stand up. To my surprise and shock, I fall back. Dizziness hits me, and my head swims. Dimly, I register that I must have used up a huge amount of magicka, but it doesn't seem that important at the moment.

"Gabriella!" Babette's voice. _ I forgot about her. What is she doing out here?_ Suddenly, my eyes snap open, and the world comes into focus. My head clears in a instant. I force myself up, and run back towards the shack.

"Babette! Is he okay? Daanik!" I leap through the door, and land, somewhat unsteadily, on the floor. I wince, as I unintentionally lean on a splintered piece of wood. Ignoring the pain, I look around. My heart stops. Daanik is sitting, propped up against the closed door, with Babette leaning over him. There's something wrong with him. His eyes are closed, and his face is covered in blood. His armor is ragged and torn, and he's not breathing. _By Sithis, he's not breathing._ It feels like an iron hand is gripping my heart.

"Daanik." I whisper. I can't get the words out. "Daanik!" I try again, somewhat louder. There's a tear running down Babette's face. "Daanik!" I scream, into the silent forest. I tear my pack from my belt, and frantically search for the potion I had specifically brought along. My fingers do not seem to be responding. Against my will, I let out a sob.

Finally, I find the small, dark red vial. Without hesitation, I tear the cork from the glass. I lean Daanik's head back, pour the concoction into his mouth, and sit back. The seconds seem like days. Finally, finally, he lets out an explosive cough. "Daanik! Can you hear me?" I yell. His eyes flicker, and almost open, but then his head lolls to the side, and they close again. I snatch a larger, blue vial from my pack, and down it in one swallow. Immediately, I feel rejuvenated.

I hear Babette's voice, and turn to look at her. "Gabriella…c-can you heal this?" She asks. Another tear rolls down her cheek. I steel myself, and force back my emotions.

"Yes, Babette." I close my eyes. "I have to." I murmur, too quite for the child-vampire to hear. I concentrate, and access the energy within my body, and let it flow. My hands glow with a soft, golden light, and I place them on Daanik's face. As the skin slowly knits itself back together, I notice something, and frown. Daanik's body looks strange, almost mottled, in different shades of red. _What is that? It looks like a macabre tattoo._

I tug off the top part of his armor, and gasp. I cover my mouth with my hands. His body is covered in a patchwork of jagged cuts, bruises, and burns. Not a single inch of unmarked skin remains. I can see where the knife was twisted in his flesh, just to make him scream. I can't hold back the tears. They drip across his body, as I heal him.

I work until I'm completely drained. After over an hour, I sit back. I've healed so much, but even now, Daanik's body is covered in wounds.

"We….we have to get him back to the sanctuary, as soon as possible." My mouth is parched. The world seems to spin around me, and it is all I can do to keep from toppling over. I dig through my pack until I find a medium-sized, green potion. I drink it, swallow hard, and feel a bit better.

Babette nods, and we pick up Daanik together. In my near-delirious state, Babette's superhuman strength almost makes me laugh. _I'm so tired_. We carry Daanik out the door, and I glance back at Hern. He is laying in the grass, whimpering pitifully. A black handprint is burned deeply into his face. I can see the charred bone.

"Do you want to finish him?" Babette asks quietly. I think about it, but then shake my head. "No." I answer, icily. "Let the wolves do it for me." She nods grimly, and we set out back towards the sanctuary. Before we get much farther, I conjure a familiar, and whisper a message in it's ear. In a flash, the ghostly wolf takes off towards the sanctuary. Hopefully, help will be here soon. I think of Daanik, but I am too tired to cry. All I can do is pray.

_ Please. By Sithis, by the Night Mother, by the nine divines and the damn Daedra, whichever of you exist. Please, I beg of you. Save him._


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: My apologies if the first scene is confusing, it just kinda flowed out. Also, I should probably start putting disclaimers. I DO NOT own Skyrim. It is the property of Bethesda, inc. I do own Daanik, however, in all his sarcastic glory. Also, the song in this chapter is not mine either. I'll throw up a link at the bottom in case anyone would like to listen to it. As always, constructive criticism is appreciated, and enjoy :)**

CHAPTER 6

_Daanik's POV_

Red, black, and white. But not soft, innocent white. Harsh, burning, seething white. Red, dripping, dripping onto the white. The white comes alive, and howls. The red stops dripping, and starts pouring. The whiteness twists and turns, and writhes and screams.

And the black grows. It emerges, softly, slowly, from around the edges of the world. It tries to blanket the white and the red. It sneaks in closer, closer, but every time, the white's agonized cries drive it back.

I study the scene before me. The white screams again, and a bolt of pain lances through my skull. Dimly, without much coherent thought, I feel empathy for it's pain. _What do I know of pain? _I try to remember, but I can't. Everything I am is uncertain, as if I've been taken apart, piece by piece, and then scattered throughout the void. My thoughts, my actions, my emotions, my very identity, they've all been stripped away leaving nothing.

What's left of my consciousness is a whirlwind of indecision. _Am I poor, or wealthy? Follower, or commander? Guard or bandit? A commoner, or Jarl? Hero, or assassin? _With too many decisions, too much to replace, and nothing to build with, the small cocoon of coherency I've built around myself shatters. My thoughts are swept away, out of my grasp, as if in a great flood. I try, desperately, to grasp onto something tangible. But then the white screams, and I remember it's plight, and I'm pulled back into the scene, lacking even the ability to wonder.

The red drips, leaving a lazy, bloody trial on the white slate. Suddenly, the white is no longer such, but more red than anything else. The black grows with more vigor this time, and within seconds, the only thing visible is a prick of red against a midnight blanket.

_Visible. _The word echoes in the storm of my mind. I come to a wonderful realization: If I have eyes, then I must be physical. _I have a body. _Suddenly, a list fills my consciousness, a list of body parts. _Hair, feet, spine, abdomen, lungs, fingers, heels. _The list goes on and on, and I attach myself to the stream of information desperately. It's my only certainty.

I turn my gaze back to the scene before me. My newfound confidence seems to fuel the blackness, and it completely swallows the red. The agonized screams of the white are silenced, but not abruptly. They fade, as if the red has finally run out, and is no longer dripping. Something else flows through the storm, and I slowly recognize it as happiness. _I'm glad that the whiteness is alright. _

I wait, watching the black, wondering if it will open again. I recognize hope, as I express my wish for it to remain shut. _I remember hope. _Without warning, a stream of images courses past my eyes. Slowly, I recognize myself, and others I know or had known. _Memories. _I cling to them as well, but the more I try to reach them, the faster they move. Faster, and faster, and faster and faster, until they blur together in a blinding light.

Suddenly, the brightness is gone, replaced by the looming black. What had seemed so comforting earlier, now I hope will again yield the bright stream I want so badly. Another realization hits me, and I'm left mentally reeling as I remember the concept of time.

After a few seconds, I steadiy myself again, and waited for the black to change. With time being such a fresh idea, it's concepts and practice are still extremely sharp in my mind. After exactly seven minutes and thirty-four seconds, I come to the conclusion that nothing will change. Another emotion pervades my consciousness, thought it seems similar to another I know. After a moment, I label it as hopelessness. Nevertheless, I draw it into my shell. Anything is better than the void, than the terrible emptiness.

And then the black cracks. It starts at it's respective sides, and very smoothly arches upwards, and then down again, in a wide arch. After no more than a second, the thine line stretches from one side of the expanse to the other. Then, both the upper and lower halves of the black are raised, and lowered, respectively. The arching crack opens wide, and a bright, brilliant light shines through, as bright as the stream of memories earlier.

Everything floods back. _My name is Daanik. I am a Nord. I am the Listener of the Dark Brotherhood, and the Dovahkiin of legend. I'm a sarcastic asshole, and find few greater pleasures in life than humor itself. I live in the Falkreath sanctuary, with my family. Astrid and Arnbjorn, Veezara, Cicero, Nazir, Babette, Festus, and Gabriella. _

With every family member's name, the light grows brighter, and with Gabriella's, it outshines the black. Every single thing that I have ever experienced flashes past my eyes in a torrent of epiphany. I gasp; it feels like a freezing, icy stream is flowing over and through me.

Suddenly, the images stop, and all that's left is the blinding light. For a second, I'm disappointed, until something new happens. I hear a beautiful, lilting sound, and I'm entranced. It captivates me, showing me a peace and serenity I haven't known in years. I want it to last forever.

I don't know how long I listen. I let the music influence my mind, and ignore everything else. One minute I'm laying in the middle of a field in Cyrodiil, with birds chirping and the sun shining. The next minute I'm sitting on a rugged cliff in Skyrim, with my legs dangling off the edge, into a deep canyon. A single, wind-blasted tree is desperately clinging to the ground behind me, and Masser and Secunda shine brightly in the sky. I watch the aurora as it flows ever onward, like a silent, heavenly river.

Many, many more scenes flash before my eyes. But I know it can't last forever. Finally, I see the profile of a woman, wrapped in black and red robes. Her head is bent, and I can't see her eyes. Her skin is dark, the color of pine needles. She's standing at the edge of a frozen river, with snow coming down all around her.

A single, white curl falls from her hood, and hangs down the side of her face, resting just above her chest. She makes no move to tuck it back into her hood. She brings a hand to her face, and wipes away a tear. My heart aches at the sight, and I feel a tear run down my own face. Just as I go to reach out towards the woman, the vision is blown away, like a puff of smoke. The last note of the song sounds, and I open my eyes.

_Gabriella's POV_

I place the washcloth back in the bowl, swirl it around a bit, and then retrieve it again. I wring it tightly, so as not to drip water on the bed. I bring the cloth up the Daanik's face, and lay it on his forehead. He has been extremely feverish, and restless. His eyes have been darting back and forth under his eyelids for hours now.

_At least he has stopped screaming. _The pale nord had been howling in what I can only surmise was pain, for over half an hour, repeatedly. Even bloodthirsty Cicero had winced. Daanik's cries of agony had ceased about six hours ago, however, and had been replaced by…this.

I bite my lip, and tried to summon the magic. My palms flicker golden, but only for a second before extinguishing. I slump, in exhaustion. I had been attempting to heal Daanik for hours now, but I had quickly run out of magicka, leaving it up to Babette to mix more of her restorative mixtures. That, however, would take time. _Time that I am not sure that we possess. _

I jump up, and curse loudly. Ferociously, I aim a kick at the wall. _I hate this. I hate this waiting, I hate not having more magicka, I hate that we don't have a specialized healer…_I rant for a few minutes, until I can no longer think of anything else to blame. I collapse on the bed next to Daanik's, and bury my face in my hands. _I hate feeling helpless._

A cry startles me out of my self-pity. I jerk up, and rush to Daanik's side. He's tossing and turning feebly, and letting out periodic moans. I sit down next to him, and stroke his face softly. He's barely cooled down in the past seven hours.

"Shhhh." I whisper, trying to soothe him. His face is twisted in fear, and pain. He must be having a nightmare. My heart aches, and my stomach twists, seeing him like this. I wipe my eyes, and whisper to him quietly. "Shhhh, it is alright. You are safe."

I begin humming a melody, a lullaby from Morrowind. I pause for a minute, and try to remember the words. I place the cold washcloth on Daanik's forehead, and begin to sing.

_I remember tears streaming down your face_

_and I said I'd never let you go,_

_When all those shadows almost killed your light._

Daanik stops tossing and turning, and his cries quiet a bit. His expression relaxes, as if he is listening.

_I remember you said,_

"_Don't leave me here alone."_

_But all that's dead and gone and past, tonight._

Miraculously, Daanik relaxes even more. His eyes stop flickering. His face grows peaceful, and he sighs deeply. I remove the washcloth, and cool it off again in the bucket of water.

_Just close your eyes, the sun is going down._

_You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now._

I bring the cold cloth back up to his face, and dab his temples, his neck, and the corners of his eyes. As if sensing my touch, he turns his head towards me slightly. I turn around, to wet the washcloth again, and continue singing.

_Come morning light, _

_you and I'll be safe, and, sound._

My voice lingers on the final note, unwilling to let the room fall into silence again. Daanik coughs, and I wring the washcloth out.

"G…Gabriella?" My eyes widen, and I whirl around. Daanik is blinking, probably blinded by the sudden light.

"Daanik! You are awake!" I cry. _Oh, thank gods. _I leap forward, and hug him tightly. He grunts, and winces. I let go quickly, remembering his wounds. And the fact that I do not hug people. He would most likely find it extremely strange. Damn.

"I'm sorry." I say, and give him an apologetic look. He pushes himself up a bit, and forces a smile.

"S'all good." I can see him trying to suppress a groan. He shifts, laying down more comfortably. "Hey, did I just hear you use a contraction?" He asks. "I don't think I've ever heard that." He laughs weakly.

I just look at him. _What?_ For a second I do not register his words. I cannot believe he is joking already. Then a wide smile splits my face, and I laugh loudly. "You are a fool." I say, still grinning widely. He joins in my laughter, until he stops from the pain.

After a while, he asks me, "How long have I been asleep? And how long was I…?"

"Almost eight hours." I reply, quickly. He whistles through his chapped lips. "After you had been gone a while, Babette and I went after you. We…we found you, and killed Hern." I pause, as his face twists with the memory of the mad vampire. I continue, "I sent a message to the rest of the sanctuary, and Astrid sent Arnbjorn to help us get you home. He transformed, and carried you all the way on his back."

He smiles weakly. "That would explain the cramp in my neck. Werewolf travel can be quite uncomfortable, you know." We laugh at his slightly dark humor. His body is still criss-crossed with burns and cuts. I smile again, and brush the hair off his face. He closes his eyes at my touch. "Have you been healing me, all this time?" He asks, after a while.

He opens his eyes, and I nod. "At least, I have been trying. I ran out of Magicka a while back, and now I am waiting on Babette to finish her healing remedies." Remembering the child-vampire, I bite my lip, wondering where she is. _I wish she would hurry. _

He nods. "I understand. Thank you." He smiles at me. He pauses, as if deciding whether or not to ask his next question, but the continues, "Did you…sing to me?" He looks up, his expression unreadable.

I can feel my face flush, and I'm grateful for the curtain of hair that falls between me and Daanik, as I turn my head to the side. I pretend to busy myself with the washcloth, and nod. "Yes." Slowly, I look back at him, and he is smiling, his first smile that has not been forced today. I smile back.

"Thank you, Gabriella. Truthfully, it helped a lot." He rubs his eyes. "I had some strange dreams." He winces, apparently remembering the source of his screams.

"I know." I answer, without thinking. He looks up in surprise, and I curse myself for the outburst. "You were…" I look down, and continue, "…screaming, for a while. It sounded as if you were in pain." I give him a questioning look, and he motions for me to continue. "I wanted to wake you, but Babette said I had to wait. That there was a poison, or infection, in your system, and that if I did not let you wake up on your own terms, that I would be doing you more harm than good."

He looks down. "I'm sorry," He says, "I wish I weren't such a burden." His tone is completely free of sarcasm, a rare occurrence for Daanik. I look at him, genuinely confused. _Does he really think that __taking care of him is a chore?_

Before he can continue, I cut him off. "No, Daanik, that is not what I meant. I was worried about you. I thought…I thought you might never wake up." I hide my face again. My eyes are tearing up. Mentally, I curse my weakness. I feel a hand on my shoulder, and wipe my eyes. Daanik is sitting up, and looking at me with concern.

"Hey." He whispers. "It's okay. I'm okay, thanks to you." He smiles, and I smile back, through wet eyes. "All I need…" He yawns, widely. "…is a little sleep." Still smiling, I stand up.

"Get some rest, Nord. When you wake, I will bring you something to eat." He grins, and lays down.

"Thank you, Dunmer. I'm looking forward to it." I pick up the bowl of water, and walk towards the door. Just before I open it, I hear a loud noise. Startled, I turn around. Daanik is laying on his back, grinning widely, with his eyes closed, and pretending to snore. _Gods, he's loud. He sounds like a mammoth with a cold. _I giggle, uncharacteristically. His snore is interrupted by his own laugh.

I shake my head, still smiling, and exit the room, happier than I've been in days. I walk down into the main room of the sanctuary, and dump the water out into the pool. A remember my prayer from earlier, and a thought occurs to me. "Thank you." I murmur, to no one in particular.

I head over to the alchemy nook, to check on Babette. _Not that I am in need of her potions as badly anymore. _I grin widely, and almost laugh out loud, delighted of that fact. _He's going to be alright. Daanik is going to be alright!_

**A/N: watch?v=5K4PGpXsOAI - Safe and Sound, by The Civil Wars and Taylor Swift**_  
_

**I'm aiming to have at least as many reviews as there are chapters to this story. Any reviews are great. I mean, besides pure insults. Anyways, I'd like one more before I post another chapter. If that doesn't happen soon, then, eh, I'll post it anyway, because I'm not arrogant enough to think that any of you care enough about this story to be forced into reviewing it, just to keep it alive. But yea. It would make me an extremely happy author ;)**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Well I had six chapters up, and I got six reviews. As promised, I present to you, chapter seven of this wonderful tale. It's not entirely pertinent to the plot, but I can't have chapter after chapter filled with drama now can I? So, with all that said, read and (hopefully) enjoy :)**

CHAPTER 7

_Daanik's POV_

_Stalking is the most entertaining part of a kill. Well, actually, the kill itself is pretty great too. And the drinking, eating, and cheering that often follows a kill does have it's moments. Okay, so stalking is the worst part of a kill. Whatever. It may be the worst part, but it's the worst of an excellent situation. _

Mentally, I sigh at my own circular argument. That entire line of thought was essentially wasted energy, energy that I should be putting into concentrating on remaining undetected.

Shaking my head, I crouch, and peer around the corner of the modest inn. Seeing no one, I carefully make my way to the door. _At least I'm wearing my silencing boots this time. _

I grimace, as I remember the vampire, Hern, and the ordeal I went through. It's been a little over a week since Gabriella and Babette found me, in that tiny, stone prison, and brought me back to the sanctuary. _Gods, that place…_I shudder. Unbidden, images of my ordeal push their way into my mind. _A white-hot poker, and an array of hammers and wrenches. A disgusting, decayed smile, and my own blood spattered across the walls. And a long, drawn-out scream._

I let out a sound, something between a grunt and a growl, and force myself to think of something else. Something pleasant, something fun. _Like Gabriella. _A tiny voice in the back of my subconscious pipes up. _Yes, like Gabriella. _Immediately, an image of her, with her deep, ruby eyes and long, shimmering hair springs to mind. A small smile tugs at the corners of my mouth.

I shake my head, and realize that I've been standing here, smiling blankly for a good few seconds. _What's gotten into me? Why in Oblivion am I reacting to that damn dark elf like this? _The tiny voice in the back of my mind decides to make itself known again: _And I wonder if she feels like this around me too!_

I reject the thought immediately. _What? No, I don't wonder anything. And even if I did, now is not the place nor the time to be doing any wondering. Now is the time to focus on my contract, like a good assassin. Heh. "Good assassin". It's funny, because assassins are criminals._

I roll my shoulders, and crack my neck. Just as I'm about to round the corner of the inn, a young dunmer woman walks out. _Her ears are so much like Gabriella's! They're so long, and swooping, and really frame her face beautifully. _I imagine myself metaphorically beating the tiny voice in my head down with a large war hammer. _For the love of Mara…_

Without thinking any further, I move towards the door. I press my ear towards it, and listen for a second. I don't hear anything, so I silently ease it open. The hinges are oiled, and the heavy door swings without so much as a squeak.

I survey my surroundings. The medium-sized room is typical, simply that of a tavern. There are a few tables and benches lining the walls, and a couple chairs at the far end of the room. At the other end, sits the bar, but without it's tender. Atypically, the tavern is completely empty. _Hm. That's weird. I am still in Skyrim right? Because, in Skyrim, any place with alcohol is usually packed full of mead-guzzling nords. Why do I say "nords", as if I'm not one too? _

I continue to sweep the room, as I ponder my disconnection from the rest of my race. _I mean, I guess I'm smaller, lighter, and Oblivion knows I'm quieter, than a typical nord. But I am the Dragonborn, who's kind of supposed to be the epitome of a nord warrior, right? _

Slightly absentmindedly, I note anything in the tavern that could be used as a weapon or escape route. _Two kitchen knives on the table right across from me, no windows, a door leading to a guest room that probably does have a window…_

"Um…excuse me?" _Shit. _I jerk my head around, towards the source of the voice. A blonde woman is leaning across the bar, staring at me in confusion. Quickly, I straighten up, and cough slightly. _Where in Oblivion did she come from?_

"Sorry, I dropped my, uh, arrow." I answer, fumbling for an explanation. I pull out an arrow from my quiver, and offer it to her. "But I…found it." _Gods, Daanik, could you be any smoother? I mean, come on man, it's not your first job. Step it up. _

I try to make myself look commanding, and stride over towards the bar. I sit down, and prop myself up on my elbows.

The barmaid eyes me up and down. "Been in the area long?" She asks, in an overly sultry voice. I try to answer, but she interrupts me, saying, "Oh, I'm so sorry. Welcome to the Nightgate inn." She edges a little closer to the bar, and leans over. Very deeply. _Well, she doesn't leave much to the imagination now, does she. _I smirk, mentally. _Just the way I like it. _

"Are you here on business?" She bites her lip. "Or…pleasure?" I ignore the lack of originality in her statement, and shake my head sorrowfully.

"Unfortunately, miss, only business tonight. My apologies." She pouts dramatically, and sighs.

"Well, let me get you something to drink. The finest Honningbrew ale, on the house." She reaches for a bottle, and slowly uncorks it with her teeth. I raise my eyebrows. _Really? Classy girl. _She reaches for a mug, and fills it to the brim. I reach out to take it, but before I can, she pretends to stumble, and pours the ale all over her chest.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" She covers her mouth in feigned surprise. _Gods, woman, could you be any more subtle? I mean, you've really got me on my toes here. Is that a shadowed hint of sexual tension I detect? _She grabs a rag from underneath the bar, bending down low enough to touch her forehead to the table, yet again. She starts pawing at her breasts, and I roll my eyes.

"Look, lady, thanks for the ale, but like I said, I'm here on business." She stops trying to push her breasts out, looking quite annoyed.

"Let me show you to your room." Her voice is like a sharpened icicle. _An extra-sharp icicle. Superior to other icicles. Like if Euorland Grey-mane forged an icicle on his Skyforge. Oh well. You know what they say. Oblivion hath no fury…_

She stalks over to the door I noticed earlier, and opens it. Just as I suspected, it leads to a guest room, with a large window. She holds the door open for me, and I walk inside. I look around a bit, taking in the room, and drop my bow and quiver on a chair near the door. Satisfied, I turn around to pay the barmaid.

Suddenly, I feel a strong push on my chest. Normally, I wouldn't have budged, but with no time to react, I fall backwards onto the bed. In a flash, the crazy woman is straddling me, tugging at my armor.

"Your armor looks so tight. You must be so uncomfortable!" She says, trying to pin me down. "Let me help you take it off."

"Bitch, no! Get off me you mad cow! What are you doing?" _Gods, why does it feel like I'm being tackled by a bear? _If her straddling me weren't enough, she tries to hit me to get me to be quiet. I move my head out of the way, and in the process, catch a glimpse out of the window.

An orc, dressed in fine clothes and a chef's hat, is sprinting away from the inn as fast as he can. _Are you fucking kidding me? For the love of Mara, really?_

"Look, honey, any other time. But I'm busy right now, so…I'm sorry for this." She stops tugging at my armor long enough to ask, "What for?", before my fist connects with the side of her head. She drops to the ground like a rock, out cold.

I leap off the bed, and grab my bow and arrows. I start digging into my pocket for a few coins to leave, then think better of it. _The bitch did try to rape me. Or was she a distraction?_ _Did she do all that to help that gods damned gourmet get away? _I groan as I realize the truth. _No one is that forward Daanik, you ice-brained skeever. _

I sprint out of the room and into the tavern. I kick open the door, and run around to the back of the inn, grumbling something about barmaids, sex, and stupidity.

Quickly, I position myself in the direction that I saw the gourmet run, and shout. I feel the Thu'um build up in my stomach, up into my chest, and then surge out through my throat. "**WULD NA KEST!"**

The icy ground disappears from under me, and the trees whip by faster than a flying dragon. Within seconds, I can see the orc. A devilish grin crosses my face, as an idea strikes me. I unsheathe one of my twin daedric daggers. I straighten up, adjust my course a bit, and extend my arm out to the side.

I flash past the orc, and I feel a slight tug on the arm holding the dagger. The shout wears off, and I feel myself slowing down. I turn around.

_Ha! Perfect. _The gourmet's body is laying a few yards behind me, spraying a small fountain of red. His head, however, is rolling lazily towards me.

I twirl my dagger a few times, then sheathe it. I laugh, triumphantly, and stride back to where I had come from, past the inn, and onto the dirt path leading to the main road. I debate whether I should go back to the inn, and claim that spilled drink, but decide against it. _She'd probably just call the guards, and I don't want to have to kill off all of the Pale's protection._

I grin again. _I can't wait to get back to the sanctuary, and tell Gabriella how I killed that bastard. _I shake my head. _Uh, I mean, I can't wait to tell Gabirella, and Veezara, and Cicero how I did. Yea, that's it. A group story. _

Sighing, I trudge along the dirt path, back towards the sanctuary. _Gods, what's gotten into me?_

**A/N: Sorry, it's not as long as the last one. But HOPEFULLY the next chapter will be a bit more interesting than this one. As always, reviews make me a happy author ;)**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews, they make my day. Seriously :D I'm not completely happy with this chapter, but I think it's alright. If not, you know how it works, leave me a constructive comment. Thanks, and enjoy!**

CHAPTER 8

_Daanik's POV_

"What was Cyrodiil like?" Gabriella breaks the silence between us. We've been walking for a while, on our way to Windhelm for a special contract from Astrid. We'd barely spoken since morning, and by now, the sky was already darkening. Not that there was anything stopping us from conversing, we just both found the silence to be comfortable.

I ponder her question for a minute, deciding on the best way to answer. She turns her head to look at me, her eyes questioning. My gaze travels along the ground, not really paying attention, until my eyes catch on a slightly glowing sprig of Nirnroot. I smile, remembering how it had fascinated my as a child.

"My family left when I was pretty young, but we traveled quite a bit before we settled in Skyrim." I pause, doing my best to formulate the clearest explanation. "Cyrodiil is very green, and flowing." I rub the back of my neck, and laugh, slightly embarrassed.

"I know, it's not the most picturesque description, but it's accurate. The Imperial Province is a mass of wide plains, rolling hills, and lush forests." I amend my statement after a second, "Well, lush by Skyrim's standards, anyway. And it does have mountains, but those are almost exclusively in the Jerall range."

Gabriella nods, and says, "It sounds quite beautiful. Nothing at all like Morrowind." I shake my head in response.

"I know it sounds beautiful, and peaceful, but it's not. It's just…there. It has no fire, no life." We follow the path, as it turns onto a bridge, only a yard upstream from a waterfall.

"To be honest, I prefer Skyrim. This place has a majesty that's unmatched by anything I've seen in Cyrodiil. I mean, I go out at night, and I sit on the edge of this one specific cliff. I stare out at the jagged mountains, and the ancient pines, and the shimmering snow, and I can feel it. This place, it has power."

I stop in the middle of the bridge. "Here, let me show you." I take her hand, and lead her to the edge of the bridge, just above the waterfall. I hear her intake of breath as the scene unfolds in front of us.

The starlight shimmers off a river, running through the center of a valley. The river is fed by the falls, that we're practically standing on, crashing down hundreds of feet into it's basin below. Dark pines, brushed with snow, stand tall along the riverbank, and through most of the valley, like ancient sentinels. On either side of the valley, titanic mountains stretch their jagged tips into the air, as if reaching for the gods. Their peaks are highlighted by Masser and Secunda. And the aurora shines brilliantly in the sky, a shade of soft, morning blue. _Lok okaaz, Odahviing called it. The sky river. _

A cool breeze stirs Gabriella's hair. She has her hood down again._ I'm surprised she's not cold. _She stands still for a moment, and then breathes in deeply, tasting the cold air. She turns to me, her eyes wide.

"I have never perceived Skyrim this way before. You are right." She turns her gaze back to the valley. "I think I understand what you mean. This land has a character, a personality. It is proud, unwavering, and wise."

Unwillingly, my thoughts turn to the Greybeards, and I smile slightly. _Proud and unwavering, maybe, but wise? Eh, best not to mention that thought to Arngier. He might yell at me._

We sit in silence for a few minutes, before Gabriella breaks the silence again. "This is truly beautiful. I never appreciated Skyrim like this before now." She laughs, saying, "And I have lived here for over ten years now!"

She turns to look up at me, and I look into her eyes. Her soft, ruby eyes, framed by pearl-white waves of hair. I'm suddenly aware of our proximity, and I'm reminded of the last time we sat outside together.

She stands up on her toes, leans forward, and kisses my cheek. "Thank you, Daanik." She settles back onto her feet. She blushes furiously, and turns away. "Come, it is getting late. Let us make camp. That cave looks perfect!"

For a second, I don't register her words. Stunned, I stare at her receding form, and touch the spot on my face where her lips met my skin. It feels like it's on fire. For once, I can't siphon any humor out of the situation. Gabriella had kissed me, once before, but this was different. That was out of pity, it was meant to be comforting. This was..._I'm not sure what this was._

Numbly, I follow Gabriella to the cave she pointed out. She sets up our bedrolls, while I look around the area, searching for materials for a fire pit. I easily find a few large rocks, some kindling, a good amount of firewood, and a sturdy branch to sharpen into a spit.

I head back to camp, and start arranging the rocks in a circle. I look up, to check on Gabriella. I can't see her at first, but in a few seconds, I notice her over by a small pond, catching a couple fish. _Her __hair is so long. When she bends over, even a little bit, it almost touches the surface of the water. _My thoughts turn to the fish, and my stomach growls loudly. I finish building the rest of the fire in no time.

I stand up to join the dark elf, but she's already striding back to camp. _Damn. That was fast. She caught five fish, in what, fifteen minutes? _I sit back down again, and start setting up the spit. Once it's in place, Gabriella hands me the fish, perfectly filleted by her expert knife skills. I skewer the fish, and set them over the fire pit. I bend down close to the wood, and breathe. "**YOL**."

The wood smolders for a bit, and then catches. The smell of our food cooking fills the clearing, my stomach growls again. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Gabriella smile bemusedly.

We sit down, close to the fire. I hold my hands over the blaze, relishing the warmth. Gabriella sits back, and draws her legs up to her chest. Her robes cover her like a blanket. I watch her, as the firelight flickers in her garnet eyes. She doesn't notice my gaze; her brow is furrowed, she's staring at a point in the fire, lost in thought.

Neither of us move. The night is silent, except for the crackling of the fire. The air is still, and the sky is clear.

"Gabriella, I-" The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. _Damn. _I curse myself, wishing I'd just let myself enjoy the peace.

She looks over at me, her eyes unfocused. She shakes her head slightly. "Sorry, my mind was elsewhere. Did you say something?" She asks, questioning.

For a brief moment, I consider not answering. I consider simply staying here, and watching her. Seeing how the firelight makes her face glow so beautifully, and watching her expressions as her thoughts wander. _No. That would probably freak her out. A lot. _

"Yea." I answer, almost immediately. "I wanted to thank you. Not…not many people would allow themselves to be taken completely out of their point of view. I know you thought Skyrim was harsh, and barren, and you probably still do." I let out a breath, and look down, trying to figure out the clearest way to phrase my thoughts.

"But the fact that you ignored your own opinion, just for a second, to try and see what I see, means a lot. Not many people could do that."

I hesitate for a moment, then continue, "But that's not what I'm trying to say. What I mean is, it takes a lot of trust in someone, to give their instincts a chance. And that's what I want to thank you for." I look back up at her. "Thank you for trusting me, and thank you for…understanding, what I see."

_Please, Talos, let her not be totally freaked out. _I force myself to study her expression, and breathe a relieved sigh. Her eyes are shining, and her lips are curled up in a smile.

"Of course I trust you, Daanik. You do not have to thank me for that." Still smiling, she continues, "And I know how beautiful you find Skyrim. I've seen you, staring up at the night sky while we are walking." She turns her head, letting the veil of her hair conceal her features.

"The expression on your face, it is that of such wonder…I wanted to understand what you feel. So, I attempted to see the world through your eyes." She looks back up at me, and her eyes are shining again. She shifts a bit, and moves her arms from around her legs to steady herself, as she turns towards me.

"And I understand now! I see what you mean! You used the perfect word earlier. Majesty, you said." She hesitates for a second, then continues, "I have never felt such wonder at my surroundings before, and it gives me a level of clarity that is new to me. So, as glad as I am that my trust means so much to you, I cannot simply accept your thanks without telling you what you have done for me. I sincerely appreciate it, Daanik."

She looks back at the fire, and she seems so far away. Her eyes focus on that faraway point again. Her lips move, a barely audible murmur. "I am so glad to have met you."

She bites her lip, and casts a glance at me.

My heart swells, and I answer, "I'm glad to have met you too, Gabriella." She smiles, and I smile back. I reach down, and take her hand in mine.

We sit like that for what feels like a perfect lifetime. A wave of peace washes over me, something I haven't felt in a long time.

After a few minutes, I remember the food. I check to see that it's not burnt. To my utter relief, it still looks edible. I remove the spit from above the fire, and offer it to Gabriella. We each take two fish, and place them on small, wooden plates I had brought along.

A bout of immaturity suddenly strikes me, and I grab the last remaining fish. I grin to myself, and then turn to the dark elf.

"Hey Gabriella?"

She mutters through a mouthful of food. "Yes?"

"Guess what?"

She gives me a questioning look.

I grin, devilishly. "Fish attack."

She squeaks, adorably, as the last fish flies through the air towards her. Her eyes widen, and in the last second, she leaps out of the way.

She bends down slowly, and picks up the projectile. She turns towards me, her eyes glinting. _Oh, shit. _"Oh, you are so dead." I barely have time to react before she's chasing me around the campsite, with the fish in her hand, yelling threats the entire time.

After a few minutes of yelling, running, fish-throwing, and screaming, we collapse in a heap next to each other, nowhere near our bedrolls. We both turn to look at each other, our faces inches away. Her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes are bright and sparkling.

"Truce?" I ask, between labored breaths. She just nods, panting too hard herself to answer.

I turn away, and stare up at the stars. I ponder Gabriella's statement from earlier, as my heart stops thumping. _Do I really look up at the sky so often? That can't be good for an assassin. For the love of Mara, I really am the least focused one in the sanctuary. _

My thoughts wander, and soon, my eyelids start to feel heavy. My breathing grows even, and I'm aware of Gabriella's presence, only inches away from me. My eyes close.

After a while, I feel the beautiful elf's head rest against my shoulder.I smile to myself, and tilt my head against hers. I listen to her slow, measured breathing, and before I know it, sleep overcomes me.

**A/N: Just wanted to say HOLY MOTHER OF DOVAHKIIN I'M SO EXCITED DAWNGUARD IS COMING OUT TODAY AT 5AM! Well, for console players that is. Sorry PC. But yea, I'm excited. Aaanyways. Review :D**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews, they're always awesome. Just a warning, this chapter may be a bit hard to read. It was definitely a challenge to write. Thank's for reading, and enjoy. Also I don't own Skyrim. **

CHAPTER 9

I look to my left. Dark red eyes glow, the only visible part of a face otherwise shrouded in darkness. The shape of a head, barely recognizable, nods in assent. There will be no trouble from it's direction.

I creep closer, closer, until I'm inches away from the man. I could reach out and pickpocket him from this distance. Oh, if he knew his fate, he would only wish for such luck.

I raise my hands, tightly gripping my dagger in both, the blade pointed down towards the smooth stone of Windhelm's outer wall. I steel myself, and drive the knife downwards. My blade flashes in the moonlight. Blood flows. No one hears the man's final gurgle of surprise.

I don't pause, I stand up straight, and step over the unfortunate guard's body. Gabriella follows suit, and joins me near the edge of the wall. We look out over the city, almost deserted in the dead of night.

I turn to look at the dark elf. Her expression is one of apprehension, maybe even a touch of fear. "You ready?" I ask. Her face grows determined, and she nods. We turn back to face the city, and leap.

We alight on the closest roof without a sound. The jagged shingles make perfect handholds as we climb along the house, moving quickly and silently on to the next one. Once I reach it, I throw myself off the roof of the first house, and grab onto an ornate gargoyle hanging off the second. Gabriella follows suit, and in moments, we scale the second house and are crouching on the roof.

We make our way through this city in this fashion. Windhelm's buildings are organized in a series of rough circles. The poorest citizens live closest to the walls, in the outermost ring, while the wealthiest ones live close to the Palace of the Kings, which dominates the center of the city. Subsequently, the houses of each ring increase in size and height the further away they are form the city walls, making it child's play for two assassins to reach the inner rings.

I stop on the roof of one of the tallest houses, in the ring right before the thane's district. Gabriella's slim form appears on the roof behind me, and I turn around to look at her.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" I ask, concerned. She hasn't said anything the entire time we've been moving. Since she's far more agile than I am, which is saying something, she likes to gripe about how much noise I make, or criticize my climbing. But she hasn't done either of those things. And that worries me.

"Yes. I mean, we have to. Astrid entrusted us specifically with this contract, so we have to see it through." She answers. Her voice sounds strained, as if she's trying to suppress her emotions. "Also, we have made it this far. We might as well keep going."

I sigh. "Alright. Let's do it."

I turn around, and leap through the open window in front of me. My feet don't make a sound as I land on the thick carpet. Gabriella follows right behind me. We straighten up, and survey the room.

Astrid had come to us a few days ago, with an important contract from one of Windhelm's influentials. He was a wealthy, powerful man. But he wanted more, as most wealthy, powerful men seem to. He wanted the title of Thane of Eastmarch, to be a part of Ulfric Stormcloak's court. Unfortunately, all the seats in the jarl's court were full at the time.

But this wasn't a patient man. He couldn't simply wait for a thane to die, he was almost fifty years old himself. He wanted one of the thanes to be removed form commission in a more timely manner. Which is where the Dark Brotherhood came in.

He contacted Astrid, with a very specific set of instructions. Astrid accepted, and, since the contract required stealth, had recruited Gabriella for the job. We had both accepted, I under the excuse that it was a dangerous job, and that the dark elf could use a second set of daggers. And because it gave me an opportunity to spend more time with her. Which, is what brought us here, to this ornate room.

The silk curtains move in the breeze. The soft, thick carpet muffles any sound Gabriella or I make. The room is small, but seems larger than it actually is, due to it's height, and floor-to-ceiling windows.

I hear the dark elf's breathing grow heavy as we move away from the ledge, further into the room. I want to comfort her, to grab her hand, something. But I stop myself. We have a job to do.

We walk just a few feet further, me leading, Gabriella just inches behind me. I stop at the edge of the crib, and look down at the tiny child laying in it's depths. His hair is light brown and curly, and his skin is white, and soft. He couldn't be more than a few months old.

The man had had very specific instructions. Windhelm's court was infamous for it's corruption, and it was well-known that he desried a seat on the jarl's court. If one of his thane's turned up dead, murdered in the night, he would look too suspicious.

But the thane's wife had recently born a child, a son. Of course, the thane adored his son, as any good father would. If the child were to die, he would be broken, and unfit for power. He would step down, and the man would take his place.

Gabriella passes me, and takes her place over the child. He shifts in his sleep, but doesn't wake. Slowly, carefully, she reaches out her hand towards him. I see her face contort as her hand moves closer, inch by inch, until she can't take it anymore. She stifles a sob, and whips her hand back. She turns around to stare at me, desperately.

"I can't do it. I can't, Daanik, I can't." Her eyes are wide, and on the brink of tears. "I know, we are assassins. But-" She draws in a shaky breath, and drops her head for a moment. She looks back up at me, no calmer than before.

"I cannot do it. It is so beyond cruel. An innocent baby…" She trails off. She can't contain her tears anymore, they run down her face in tiny rivulets, glinting in the moonlight.

I step forward, and draw her close. She leans into my chest, and tries not to sob. "Shhh. It's okay." I whisper, trying to comfort her. The words sound hollow, even to me. "It's okay, don't worry. I'll do it."

She looks up at me, still crying. I feel a tear trickle down my own cheek. "I'm sorry." She whispers, her face twisted in an expression of such deep pain. I shake my head, and whisper that she shouldn't be. _This is my choice. _

We pull apart, and I turn towards the crib for a second time. She grabs my hand, and I squeeze back, trying my hardest to convey some measure of strength to her. Not that I have any to give.

I look back at the tiny bundle, and the tears flow more freely. I wipe my eyes with my free hand. "I'm sorry." I whisper. "I'm so sorry."

I latch on to the pain. I bring forth all the sorrow and fear of what I'm about to do, and all the pain it causes me to see what it will do to Gabriella. I let it build up in my chest, until I can barely stand it. I drop my head, and bite back a sob.

"Krii…" I gasp, my voice breaking. I release the soft, whispering Thu'um. We both force ourselves to watch, as the rising and falling of the child's chest becomes weaker and weaker. I squeeze Gabriella's hand as hard as I can, to keep myself from screaming. She does the same. Her entire body is trembling violently.

Slowly, slowly, second by second, minute by minute, the baby's breathing slows, until finally, it stops completely.

I don't remember leaving the room. I don't remember leaping through the city, desperately trying to get out. I don't remember the guards I must have torn through on my way. All I'm aware of is Gabriella, as we make our way to a safe distance from the city.

About a mile away from Windhelm, Gabriella stops running abruptly. She turns around, crashes into my chest. I wrap my arms around her. Finally, she lets go. She sobs into my chest, almost screaming in pain. I know better than to think it isn't physical. I can't hold back anymore. I bury my head in the crook of her neck, as I try not to howl. I shudder, over and over again, trying to be her pillar of strength.

"Shhhh. It's okay. It's okay." I repeat, over and over, trying to convince us both. My voice cracks. "It's over. It's over." I want to tell her that it wasn't real, that it was a dream, anything. That I'll keep her safe. But I can't. _What am I supposed to protect her from? _I feel helpless.

"Come on." I whisper. I lead her off the road a ways, where we had left our packs. We sit down. She buries her head in my chest. I take off her hood, and stroke her hair, periodically wiping my eyes.

We sit like that for hours. After a while, the tears cease. Slowly, little by little, Gabriella's cries stop. Her breathing evens out, and she stops shaking.

"I'll be right back." I murmur. She nods weakly. I kiss her forehead, as a promise, and get up. I grab her pack, and remove her bedroll. I spread it out next to her, and she gratefully crawls inside. Her eyes are still wet. I sit with her, until her eyes close, and her breathing becomes slow, and even.

I stand up, and turn around to go find my pack. Just as I'm about to leave, I feel a small hand on my wrist. I turn back around, surprised.

"W…wait." Gabriella says. Her lips quiver. She's barely awake. "Will you…stay with me?" I smile, and nod.

"It's okay, I'm here. I won't leave you, don't worry." She smiles weakly, and I crawl in next to her, grateful that she had inherited Arnbjorn's bedroll. There was plenty of space for both of us.

I wrap my arm around her waist, and close my eyes. "T…thank you." She whispers. In answer, I tighten my arm around her waist, just enough for her to know that I heard her.

"Daanik…" I feel her struggling to say something else, but she can't get the words out in her state. She's barely conscious. "I…I…I love…"

"Shhh." I whisper. "It's alright honey. Get some sleep now. We'll talk about it in the morning." I wait a minute for a reply, but she's already asleep. Even through all the darkness, I smile. I hold my beautiful elf closer, and bury my face in her hair. Her scent is the last thing I'm aware of, before my eyes close.

**A/N: So, how'd I do? Reviews are always good. **


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Before I say anything else, let me thank all of you for your amazing reviews. I was ecstatic when I saw so many, and they literally made my day :D So, without further ado, here's the chapter ten. I hope you all enjoy it. Don't forget to review, it's my biggest motivation ;)**

CHAPTER 10

A cold breeze brushes across my skin. Gabriella shivers in her sleep, and I open my eyes. I shift a bit, and pull her closer. She sighs contentedly, and settles deeper into the bedroll. I hold her, until I'm sure she's warm again.

I kiss the top of the dark elf's head, and carefully extricate myself from the bedroll. She shifts a bit, but doesn't wake up.

I grab my pack, and sit down on a boulder, just a few paces from her sleeping form. I pick up a few pieces of firewood on the way, and stack them up in a depression in the ground. I breathe in deeply, and exhale, lighting the wood with the Thu'um. The dry branches catch instantly.

Once the fire is up to a crackling blaze, I grab my pack, and start rummaging through it. I grab a few potatoes, a couple eggs, several strips of dried meat, and a small pan. I set the pan on the fire, and chop up the meat and potatoes while I wait for it to heat up. Once it's hot enough, I crack the eggs, and toss them and the other ingredients into the pan together. The smell of frying food wafts through the clearing.

Gabriella makes a sound in her sleep, and I shift my attention back to her. She murmurs something unintelligible, and presses the side of her face into her pillow. I smile. She looks so innocent when she's sleeping, so young. _I mean, she's not old. She can't be over twenty-five. But we are assassins. It's a stressful job. _

I watch her absentmindedly. What could have made her the way she is? Assassins aren't born, they're made. Especially Dark Brotherhood assassins. One has to seek us out, to want to kill. And like it or not, none of us are, strictly speaking, one-hundred percent sane. What could have happened to her?

Unbidden, my thoughts turn to the worst possible circumstances. Images of Gabriella in torment and fear fill my mind. I clench my fists, and try to think of something else, but I can't. Scenario after scenario plays out in my head, and my mood darkens to the point of fury.

But then, I hear a sound. I look over at the sleeping dunmer, and she whimpers softly in her sleep. She tosses and turns fitfully, as if trying to fight off some unseen enemy. And just like that, all the dark thoughts in my head disappear, replaced only by my desire to see my dark elf to safety. I jump off the boulder, and rush to her side.

"Shhh." I whisper, as I stroke long, silvery hair. "It's okay, honey. You're safe." After a minute, she calms down, and settles back into a deeper sleep.

I get up, and sit back down on the boulder. I check on the food, which, due to the cold temperature of the environment, and the low-burning flames, isn't nearly done yet. My stomach growls, and I groan internally.

_Why do you feel so protective of Gabriella? _The all-too-familiar voice in the back of my head makes it's presence known again. I sigh.

_I don't know, you tell me. Why am I so protective of her? _I ask, resigned to a long and arduous discussion. With myself. _Also, why am I talking to you like you're a separate person? I'm almost positive that you're just an unruly part of my subconscious._

The voice glosses over my words. _No, no, never mind that. Don't worry about me, we're talking about you. _I groan, but it ignores my protests. _How do you feel about her?_

_About who? _I ask, deliberately thinking of ways to piss the voice off. _Gods, I really am crazy, aren't I? I'm conspiring with myself, against myself._

The voice stays patient. _You know who I mean. Gabriella! What do you think when you see her? _It pauses for a moment, then continues. _And, yea, you are most definitely insane. I should know._

I grumble. _Shouldn't you know what I'm thinking? You're a part of me, after all. _

_Now, now, don't do that. _That voice makes a "tsk, tsk" sound at me. _You're avoiding the question. How do you feel about that beautiful dunmer girl sleeping just a few feet to your left?_

I let it go. _Fine. I'll tell you. _I take a deep breath. _Well, you said it. She's beautiful. I mean, extremely so. Her dark, pine-colored skin, and deep, ruby eyes. Her smooth face, with it's high cheekbones and perfectly sculpted lips. All framed by her near-waist length, snow-white hair. She's amazing._

I pause for a minute, and when the voice doesn't reply, I continue. _She's a deadly assassin. I mean, she's one of the best, without a doubt, probably better than me. But she's not a heartless killer like some of the others. The…incident, last night proved that. _I press my eyes shut, and after a moment, the pain recedes. _She's an amazing woman._

The voice is silent for a moment. After a minute, it says, _You know you're smiling like a dumbass, right?_

My smile turns to a scowl. _What do you want from me? _I hiss.

_No, the question is, what do you want from yourself? More importantly, what do you want for her?_

I know the answer without thinking. _I want to protect her! I want to make sure that nothing, nothing ever hurts her. I couldn't stand it if anything happened to her. _I grow angrier. _What do you want from me? Stop going around in riddles, and ask the question._

The voice shoots back a reply. _I just told you, it's not what I want from you, it's what you want from yourself. Not that those two concepts aren't one and the same, but they still stand. What do you want from yourself?_

_I don't know! By the gods, you seems to have all the answers, why don't you fucking tell me? _I yell back.

_You want to admit it to yourself. _The voice is so irritatingly patient.

_What? What, by almighty Talos, do I want myself to admit to myself? _

_Why do you want to protect her?_

"Because I care about her!" My voice echoes in the silence of the early morning. In a split second, all my anger disappears. My eyes open wide. _I care about her. I…I truly do. I would do anything for her. _The voice is silent.

I hear a low groan, and turn to look at the source of my musing. She sits up, slowly, yawning widely. I smile again. _She's just so…adorable, sometimes. Better not tell her that._

She stretches, like a sleepy cat. She rubs her face tiredly, and looks up at me, bleary-eyed. "Good morning." She smiles at me, and I smile back.

"Hey. How'd you sleep?" I ask, stirring the food. It's just about done now. I can see Gabriella eyeing it hungrily.

"I slept very well, thanks to you." She extricates herself from her bedroll, and walks over to where I'm sitting, and settles down next to me.

"Will you be okay?" I ask, apprehensively. She looks down, and kicks at a small rock near her foot. She doesn't say anything for a while. But then she looks up, her expression determined, and nods.

"Yes. Yes, I think I will." She smiles, and wraps her arms around my neck. "Thanks to you."

I hug her back, and smile. "That's what I'm here for." She laughs quietly, and hugs me tighter. I close my eyes, and enjoy the moment.

Gabriella's stomach growls loudly, and we both laugh. I pull away, and look into her eyes. I brush a strand of hair off of her face. She smiles, and closes her eyes. I smile too, and turn around. Before she has a chance to open her eyes, I scoop up some of the food, and hold the plate up in front of her. She opens her eyes, and squeals in delight.

I laugh out loud, as she begins digging into her food. She looks up for a moment to scowl at me, playfully, and then goes back to eating. Still chuckling, I reach for my own food. I take the first bite, and let out an involuntary grunt. _Sweet glory of Akatosh, that's good. _I realize I haven't eaten since breakfast the day before.

Gabriella swallows her enormous mouthful of eggs, and opens her mouth to say something. I look up, waiting for her to start speaking. She looks at my face, closes her mouth, and doubles over laughing.

"What? What's so funny?" I demand, starting to laugh myself. She gasps for breath, trying to say something, but it's no use. She starts laughing again, and points at my face. "What's wrong with my face?"

She breathes in deeply, still giggling furiously. "You have…you…" I wait patiently for her to calm down. I raise my eyebrows. "There is a potato on your forehead." She collapses into fits of laughter again.

I swipe at my forehead, and sure enough, find an inch-long slice of fried potato stuck to my face. I look at it incredulously. _How is that even possible? _I shrug, and pop it into my mouth. Gabriella pretend to retch, and I laugh.

"What? It's my forehead, not my foot." She giggles, and makes a face. I shrug. She finishes her food, and sighs, satisfied.

"That was actually really good. What did you put in it?" I grin devilishly, and answer nonchalantly.

"Oh, ya know. Some eggs, a few potatoes, a bit of meat, and a giant's toe." Her eyes open wide for a split second, before they narrow again. Now it's my turn to laugh. She glares at me. "You should have seen your face." I chuckle.

She throws her wooden plate at me. I catch it, still laughing. She grins too. "Well, now that we have both made fun of the other, what do you say we get going? Come on, I will race you to the nearest fork in the road."

I grin again. "Oh, honey. You have no idea what you just agreed to." We stand up, grab our packs, and take our places behind an imaginary line, marked by the edge of our camp.

"On three?" She asks. I nod. She chuckles. "Alright. One…" She tenses up. I stay loose, and calm.

"Two…" I breathe in, deeply.

"Three!" She's gone, faster than any person should be able to run.

"**WULD NA KEST!" **I shout, and take off at inhuman speed. I catch up to her in a matter of seconds, and without warning, scoop her up from behind. She gasps, and clings to me for dear life. She looks up in fear, and I smile at her.

"Don't worry. I've got you." I increase my speed, and shoot through the countryside faster than an arrow.

Every thirty seconds, I funnel a bit of strength into the shout to keep it running, but it costs me much less energy than it used to. This was pretty much the only shout I actually practiced while I was with the Greybeards, so I'd grown extremely good at it. I can keep it up for over an hour without tiring, because the shout itself takes almost no energy at all. The only real drain would be carrying Gabriella, and she's quite light.

The air whips past us, and Gabriella laughs in pure joy. "Having fun?" I ask, smiling. She nods enthusiastically.

"Can you go faster?" She asks, hopefully. I laugh.

"Is that a challenge?" I grin, and shoot forward. Ahead of me, I see the road dip downwards steeply, and then back up again a few yards later. I laugh wildly, and leap.

Gabriella cries out, and digs her fingernails into my arm. I soar through the air, and for a second, it seems like time slows down. My jump takes me over fifteen feet high, not accounting for the dip in the road, and fifty feet forward. She screams, and shuts her eyes. I chuckle, land perfectly, the shout absorbing the shock, and keep running.

"It's okay, Gabriella. Open your eyes." She cracks one garnet orb open tentatively. "See?" I ask, "We're back on the ground." She opens both eyes, and relaxes her death-grip on my arm.

I look down at her every so often, watching her taking in the forest around us, wide-eyed at our speed. I can't just stare at her as I'd like to, though. I have to pay attention to where I'm running. _A tree to the face at the speed of a dive-bombing dragon? Not pleasant. Not pleasant at all. _

After a couple hours, I begin to feel tired, and slow down. I set Gabriella down onto her feet, and stretch a bit.

"That was…" She searches for a fitting word, but just looks at me, shaking her head and grinning fiercely. "I cannot describe it. I guess in your words, it was 'pretty damn awesome'." I laugh at her imitation of my voice.

"How were you able to keep the shout up for so long?" She asks, curiously. "I thought you had to build up your strength before each shout."

"Normally you do." I answer. "But if you practice a shout long enough, you learn to keep the river of power flowing, so to speak. That's why dragons breathe a stream of fire, while my fire breath is more of an explosion."

She nods. "Oh, I understand. So, instead of releasing a specified amount of energy, you utilize the words of power to unlock your entire reservoir of strength."

"Exactly." I answer. I keep explaining, as we walk. "And some shouts are harder to master in that way than others. Like Unrelenting Force, for example. You've seen me use that one." She nods, and I continue.

"It was meant to be abrupt, a quick, strong push. And to keep something of that nature flowing is extremely difficult, not to mention destructive. Imagine a beam of pure, undiluted power crashing into Solitude. The city would be gone within half an hour."

She nods again, frowning. Suddenly, her eyes go wide. "Wait, wait, wait."

"What's up?" I ask. She looks as if she's just come to an extremely startling realization.

She looks at me incredulously. "You can breathe fire?"

**A/N: Not the most dramatic ending, I know. But after the last chapter, I thought a mostly light-hearted one might be nice. Thumbs up for Daanik's insanity, yay ;D**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Okay, so I just rewrote this chapter a bit. Not much, but I think it's improved some. Like I said in the first edition, I wrote this during a tornado, so I blame any and all mistakes on that. Enjoy :)**

CHAPTER 11

"I have returned, dear subjects!" The heavy black door slams shut behind me. I drop the small pack carrying my armor, and throw out my arms as if awaiting a standing ovation. Gabriella rolls her eyes, and pushes me from behind. Unfazed, I stride into the main hall of the sanctuary. Arnbjorn looks up from sharpening his battle axe, and greets me with a grunt. Veezara waves languorously from where he's sitting, cross-legged by the waterfall. Babette grins widely, and runs up to hug us both.

"Listener!" Cicero screeches from his room. A few seconds later, a multicolored blur streaks out out of the opening of the alchemy nook, and barrels into me, nearly knocking me over. Cicero hugs me suffocatingly, but lets go just as quickly, and starts jumping up and down.

"The Listener has returned! Oooo Cicero has missed you oh so much!" He pouts dramatically, and asks, "Why did you leave him here, alone with the pretender?" His voice is that of a lonely child. But just as fast as his mood changed the first time, it changes again. He laughs out loud, and dashes back to his room.

I sigh, and shake my head. "He tires me." I mutter. Babette giggles. "He's like…the resident puppy."

Gabriella smirks. "Oh, is it no longer Arnbjorn? But he is so adorable and fluffy!" She and Babette burst out laughing, and I chuckle hesitantly, hoping desperately that Arnbjorn didn't hear that. He looks up at us, and I wave nervously. He nods, and looks back down at his battle axe, sparks streaking past his face like tiny comets. I sigh, relieved. _Another moment survived, without being dinner for the Dark Brotherhood's very own werewolf. So far, it's been a good day. _

"Hail, Daanik!" A smooth, rich voice calls. Nazir drops down from his perch on the ceiling, and straightens up to grin at me. He claps me on the back. "How are you, my friend?"

I grin back. "I'm glad to be home, as always. And kind of longing for some real food, but other than that, I'm pretty damn awesome. But hey, are you ever going to tell me how you get up there?" I ask, pointing at the ceiling. He laughs thunderously, and shakes his head.

"You'll just have to figure it out yourself. How was your contract?" My mood darkens a bit, and I shake my head. I look over at Gabriella. Thankfully, she hadn't heard the question. Her and Babette were a few paces away, laughing at something.

"Just…leave that bit alone for now, alright?" I ask, keeping my voice low.

He ignores my request, and nudges me, still grinning. "I hear you got a fun one. Not one of those tiresome, hum-drum assassinations. No, yours will please Sithis to no end, am I right?"

"Nazir…" I warn. "Let it go." The smile drops from his face. Suddenly, his tone is menacing.

"You think that just because you're the listener, you get walk around this place, too good to share your kills with the rest of us?" I try to respond, but he cuts me off before I can. "Remember, _Listener_, you have only been here for a few months. Do not think yourself above anyone in this sanctuary…" He lowers his voice, and whispers in my ear. "…baby killer."

For a split second, I look around. Gabriella and Babette have retreated to their alchemy corner, along with Festus, and Arnbjorn and Astrid had slipped into her private quarters a few minutes ago. The main hall is empty. A small smile flits across my face. _This'll be fun._

My fist sinks into Nazir's stomach, driving the breath out of him with an audible _whoosh. _He doubles over, panting. I slam my foot into his chest, and he stumbles backwards, falling into the pool at the base of the waterfall with a splash. Before he can even attempt to get up, I'm on top of him, my forearm pressing into his throat.

"You're a fool, Nazir. You're blind. You have no idea of what you speak." My eyes burn into his, making him understand my words. "And you will not say a word to Gabriella, or anyone else, of our contract. Understood?" My voice is a low whisper. He growls, and tries to push me off him. I don't budge. I press down harder, threatening to crush his windpipe. "Do you understand me, redguard?"

"Fine." He spits. I get off him, and look down at his gasping form coldly. I feel a slight tinge of regret. I offer him my hand, but he ignores it, forcing himself upright and stalking off to his room. I sigh. _I lost my temper. But how else was I supposed to get him to understand that I was serious? _

I groan, and punch the wall. _I mean, he's my friend. But he doesn't understand. He's not like me and Gabriella. He's an assassin, right down to his core. And as much as I like the man, he is, for lack of a better word, heartless._

I start walking towards my room, but balk at the idea of spending time indoors. I abruptly change direction, and head towards the exit of the sanctuary. I watch as the door to Astrid's quarters opens, and her and Arnbjorn step out, both smiling happily. Astrid leans against the wall, and pulls the huge nord towards her for a kiss. They separate after a few seconds, and look at each other with loving eyes. I smile, despite myself.

Arnbjorn walks down the stairs, towards his forge, and Astrid leans in her usual place by the entrance. I make my way over towards her. "How are you?" She asks, in her low, smooth voice. I shrug, and sit down on the stairs. She sits down next to me.

"Is everything alright?" The matron asks, calmly. I sigh, and lean my head in my hands.

"I wish you hadn't given Gabriella that contract." I blurt out, wincing as I say it. I don't blame Astrid. She did her job, and chose the best person to carry it out. _I just wish that that person hadn't been Gabriella. Or me, for that matter. _ I look up at her, and her normally impenetrable eyes soften. She understands.

"I'm sorry it had to be Gabriella." She apologizes softly. "I know how you feel about her. It must have been difficult to see her do something like that." I shake my head, and smile bitterly.

"No, it wasn't. I did it. I did it for her, Astrid. And it almost killed us both." I drop my head, anger and pain coursing through my body, making it hard to breath. I clench my fists tightly, watching as my knuckles turn white from the strain. A fleeting thought occurs to me, and I wish I had not changed into street clothing. At times like this, the depths of my hood have always proven useful.

To my surprise, Astrid nods in response. "I thought you might." She looks at me with a mixture of fondness and sympathy. She sighs, deeply. "You're the best of us, Daanik. You and Gabriella both. None of us would have so much as batted an eye, aside from you two." She looks out into the sanctuary, her gaze unfocused. "You've retained the most of your humanity. As for the rest of us…" She looks back at me, her eyes almost rueful. "Well, we're the perfect assassins." She smiles sadly.

I pit forms in my stomach, as I hear the obvious regret in the woman's voice. "Astrid, I-" She shakes her head, cutting me off.

"No, it's okay. I've accepted who, and what, I am. Don't worry about me." She smiles again, but with warmth this time. "Now, go clear your mind. It's the best thing to do after a contract. Take a walk. Or maybe visit Gabriella. I'm sure she could help you relax." She winks suggestively, and laughs at the expression on my face. She heads back into her office, leaving me sitting alone.

I stand up, and walk towards the exit of the sanctuary. I brace myself against the black door, and shove it open. It screeches, and I make a mental note to oil the damn thing sometime. I step outside.

The sky is darkened with the ominous foreshadowing of a storm. It's only about six in the afternoon, but it might as well be midnight. Massive clouds, so dark that they're almost black, loom across the sky, threatening to break at any moment. A thunderclap rings in the distance, echoing off the nearby mountains. As it's roar recedes, so do all sounds of the wild. The air is completely still, devoid of the sounds of life. Not a breath of wind disturbs the valley. Not a single animal dares to make a sound, for fear of releasing the tempest upon the world. The entire valley seems to hold it's breath in anticipation.

I walk through the forest, my steps the only sound for miles around. The air feels charged with pent-up energy. After a couple of minutes, I make it to my cliff. I sit down, and stare at the forest below. It's strange, to see it so calm.

Suddenly, far in the distance, I see a ripple. The trees dip and sway, and each leaf points directly towards me. I frown, trying to make out what's happening. It takes me a few seconds before I realize what it is, and when I do, I dig my heels into the ground, and grab on to the nearest trunk. I close my eyes, and grit my teeth in anticipation.

The gale hits me like a hammer blow, driving the breath from my lungs and almost wrenching me off the tree. I hunker down, waiting for it to pass.

And then the sky opens. A sheet of rain cascades down like a solid mass, pelting me like tiny pebbles. Without my mostly waterproof leather armor, I'm soaked through in seconds. Suddenly, I feel a hand on my shoulder. I whip my head around, and see Gabriella's face, grinning through the rain. The gale lessens up a bit, and I release my death grip on the tree. I grin back.

"What are you doing out here, you mad nord?" She yells. Thankfully for her, she's not wearing her usual black and red attire either, but a pair of black leather pants, and a blue shirt. _Gods, that would be awful, wearing those heavy robes in this downpour. _

I laugh, and motion to her. "I could ask the same of you, you stark-raving dunmer." She grins again. "Come on!" I yell, taking her hand. We run to the edge of the cliff. I lift my face up to the sky, and let the rain pour. Thunder roars, and a bolt of lightning briefly illuminates the canyon, leaving a stark imprint of it on my corneas.

Gabriella's hand grips mine more tightly, as the wild elements rage around us. Suddenly, another gale strikes us, even harder than the first one, but this time, from the other side. The elf jerks forward, and I lose my grip on her hand. She falls, and slips in the wet mud. She scrambles for a handhold, and my eyes go wide and my stomach drops as I realize what's about to happen. I drop into a crouch, and reach for her arm, just as her knees slip off the edge of the cliff. She gasps, as she feels the open air beneath her. Her slender forearm slides through my grip, and I'm just able to grab her hand.

Her eyes wide with fear, she looks down at the canyon floor hundreds of feet beneath her, and then back up at my face, desperation written across her features. Lightning flashes again, illuminating her bright form against a backdrop of darkness.

"Hold on as tight as you can!" I yell, as the rain pounds down even harder. I heave with all my might, letting out a half-grunt, half-roar, as the muscles in my arm scream in protest. Slowly, inch by inch, I pull Gabriella up, and over the edge of the cliff. The second she's on solid ground, she clings to me, and we run to a safe distance from the overhang.

I set her down, and collapse on the ground next to her, panting roughly. I roll over, and sit up, to make sure that she's unharmed. I look at her wet, mud-streaked face. Her hair is soaked, and plastered to her pine colored skin. She's breathing hard, and the expression on her face is a combination of fear, relief, and overall elation.

I raise my hand, and brush her hair out of her eyes. She grows still at my touch, her eyes staring deep into mine. Her expression becomes unreadable. We're barely an inch apart.

Gently, I move my hand from her face to the back of her neck. Her lips part, just barely. Her eyes are full of anticipation, and her breathing grows heavy again. Without thinking, without pausing, I lean forward, and press my lips against her sculpted ones.

Time stops. I close my eyes. The rain is gone, along with the discomfort, and the fear. All my senses are fully captivated by my beautiful elf, as our lips move in unison. I smell her pine and lavender scent as she presses her body against mine, I hear her barely audible moans as our lips mold together. I feel the softness of her caress, as her arms wrap around me, and I taste her sweet, clear taste as we memorize every inch of each other's mouths.

I don't know how long we sit there, in the pouring rain. It could have been five minutes, or five hours. But when we finally pull apart, my mind is numb. My silver tongue fails me, and my analytical mind disappears. The rain is still pouring. And Gabriella is smiling.

"I…I love you." She whispers.

And just like that, like a blinding light, I realize that that's why I care for her. That's why I'm so protective of her, and that's why I'm more tender, open, and simply happy, than I am around anyone else. _I love her. I love Gabriella. I want to be here to hold her, and to laugh with her, and to fight for her. _

"I love you." I whisper back, a tinge of something close to fear in my voice. A thunderclap booms, accentuating my words. A feeling of elation comes over me, and I kiss her again. I feel her lips move against mine as she laughs in pure joy. I whisper it again, and then again, marveling at the words.

Gabriella smiles, and cups my face in her hands. She presses her forehead against mine, and we sit like that, as the world rages around us.

After a while, she stands up, and takes my hand. I stand up too, but ask her to wait a moment. I turn around, and walk back to the edge of the cliff. I lift my face up to the sky, and with all the emotion I can muster, with so much joy, fear, and love that it makes my voice quake, I shout. "**LOK! VAH ****KOOR!" **

For the first time, the Thu'um that erupts from my throat isn't just the voice of the dragon within me. No, this time I recognize my own voice, as something else, something beyond raw power echoes through the valley. It tugs at my being, and something deep within me shifts. I close my eyes, and realize that my cheeks are wet.

The last vestiges of my voice fade from the valley, and all is silent, but for the pouring rain. Suddenly, another sound, louder than any thunder, replaces it. It explodes outward from where Gabriella and I stand, with a deep thrumming that's both audible and physical. A shockwave ripples out from my body, shaking the trees and banishing the rain. The hair on my arms stands on end.

And with that sound, the clouds part, and the moons, brighter than I've ever seen them before, shine through. I look back at my dark elf, and she's smiling fiercely, happier than I've ever seen her. She joins me, and wraps her arms around me. She leans her head against my shoulder. I take her hand, and together, we watch the sky, as the last of the clouds, so mighty a minute ago, disappear, as if by a breathe of wind. The stars shine through, tiny pinpricks of light gleaming through a black canvas. And the first wisps of the aurora begin to form, the deep orange color of dawn.

I marvel that such wild forces could give way to such perfect serenity.

We take one last look. Then we face each other, Gabriella looking up at me, and I down at her. We kiss, standing high on a cliff, with Masser and Secunda shining brilliantly around our intwined forms. A cool breeze blows our hair back. We pull apart, and turn around. And we walk away from the cliff, away from the sky. Back to the sanctuary, hand in hand. Together.

**A/N: Too much? Not enough? Anything? Review for me :D**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: I usually say something about the story here, but I can't really think of anything at the moment, so happy fourth of July, to all my American readers. Enjoy the chapter :)**

CHAPTER 12

I spread my arms wide, and let myself fall back onto my bed with an audible thump. I close my eyes, and smile widely. I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding. _If perfect happiness exists…_I let out a small laugh. Being with Gabriella felt so, so…_natural. _I lay on the bed for another few minutes, my eyes slowly closing. I groan, as I realize that I'm still dressed. I debate whether or not I should change, arguing with myself. _But…but…I'm tired! _I whine, internally.

"Oh no, poor you." Something pokes my shoulder, and my eyes snap open. I scramble up, and leap over to the other side of the bed, striking a defensive stance. I reach to my waist, cursing when I remember the absence of my daggers.

"Who in bloody oblivion are you?" I yelp, a bit unmanly. I clear my throat, and glower over at the slim man standing on the other side of the bed. His skin is tan, and his amber eyes and pointed ears identify him as a wood elf. His hair is is long, reaching just below his shoulders, and just a few shades darker than his skin. His lithe form looks even more so due to his tight, black and red Brotherhood leathers. He holds himself confidently, rocking back and forth on his heels as I complete my inspection. I blink. There's something off about him. He's extremely tall for a bosmer, at least three inches taller than my six feet. That, coupled with the more yellow color of his eyes, suggests a half-wood half-high elf.

"My name," He says, in a lilting, mischievous voice, "Is Amaril." He flops down onto my bed, lounging against the headboard with his hands behind his head, and his legs crossed. "But you know me as 'that annoying voice in the back of your head'."

I close my eyes for a second, and breathe in deeply. "You are…a hallucination?" I ask, meekly.

Amaril vaults off the bed, landing perfectly on the balls of his feet. He saunters around the bed and over to me, smiling lazily. "Of course I am, silly. But for all intents and purposes, I'm just as real as you are." He answers, cheerfully. He picks up a quill off my bedside table, and holds it up, demonstrating his solidity.

I straighten up cautiously, and lean back against the wall, crossing my arms. I look at the elf, and my brow creases in a frown. "I'm sorry, but for the life of me, I can't decide what race of mer you are." Amaril laughs delightedly, and leaps even closer, poking me in the chest.

"What an interesting question! _Now_ we're getting somewhere!" As fast he'd appeared in front of me, he leaps back, alighting gracefully near the far wall. He leans against it, and dramatically assumes a thoughtful position. I roll my eyes. It couldn't be clearer that he knew exactly what the answer to my question was, and was just making the conversation hard on me. "What race am I…_well, _I guess that's up to you now isn't it?" He looks at me, expectantly.

I shake my head, sighing. "Fine. Let me see…you look like a half-breed, part bosmer, and part altmer. How does that sound?"

Amaril looks thoughtful. "Well, my father _was_ a high elf, and if I remember correctly, my mother left for Valenwood when I was quite young." His face clears up, and he nods an affirmative. "Yep, that sounds about right."

I sit down on the bed, suddenly feeling exhausted. _Gods, he's worse than Cicero. _"So, what was that? Are you a figment of my imagination or not?"

The elf grins. "Oh, of course I am! Just making up a backstory for myself. What's a man, if not his history, you know?" He jumps _again,_ the infernal bastard, and lands on a rocking chair, one foot in the seat, and one on the arm rest. It tips precariously, but he doesn't seem to notice.

I groan, and lean my face on my hands. "A man is the essence of his deeds. What are you doing here?" I ask, without looking up. A thought occurs to me, and I do look up at this one. "And do you have free will?"

Amaril sighs, and slumps down in the rocking chair, actually using it for it's intended purpose. He suddenly looks much less perky. "What _am_ I doing here, I wonder?" He sighs. "I'm sorry, for I know little more than you, my friend."

I look up, and feel a tinge of sympathy. The poor elf looked so lost. "Am I mad?" I ask, with the fleeting realization that I don't really fear the answer either way.

He grins, suddenly bright and cheerful again. "Oh, I would say so. But then again, who knows. Consider how you responded to my appearance. Would any sane man speak so readily with his hallucinations?"

He vaults out of his chair, and lands next to me. "But between you and me…" He whispers, elbowing me in the ribs, "All the best people are just a _tiny_ bit insane." He holds up two finger, less than half an inch apart, to emphasize his point.

I laugh at that. I start to say something, but he holds up a hand, cocking his head to the side. "You have a visitor." He says, calmly. I glance towards the door. Seeing and hearing nothing, I look back at Amaril, and blink in surprise. The strange elf is gone.

Feeling…strangely lonely, I decide that since I was up, I might as well dress for bed. I pull my cotton shirt over my head, and don a thin pair of white, linen pants. I blow out the candles lighting the room, and stretch, yawning widely. I gratefully lay down, and pull the blanket up to my chin.

Just as my head makes contact with my pillow, a knock on the door grabs my attention. The sound is tentative, as if the person making it were afraid to wake me, but hoped I was already. _Oh for the love of Talos. _I grumble. _Damn elf was right. _Suddenly I jerk up, swearing I heard a whispered giggle. Shaking my head, I blame it on my lack of sleep, and open the door, mid-yawn.

_Gabriella's POV_

I toss and turn, over and over again. Just as I think that I have reached the much-sought after sleep, it evades me. I imagine if it were sentient, it would cackle, and point at me, laughing at my failed attempts to seize it. _Then again, if sleep were a living creature, I would simply slay it, and claim it's power. _I giggle at the thought. _Oh, I could cause such _mayhem_ with a power like that! _I laugh again, at an image of myself sitting on the rafters of Dragonsreach, periodically causing the Jarl to fall asleep in the middle of his conversations with his steward.

The humor of the situation is quickly exhausted however, and I grow restless again. The tossing and turning resumes, just as before.

After a few minutes of simply staring into space, I cannot take it anymore. I growl, and punch the less-than soft mattress. The action does not help much. I sigh, and roll over for the millionth time, wishing, longing, _begging _for sleep. But, it is not the lack of rest alone that bothers me. When I cannot sleep, my thoughts wander. And they never seem to come across anything pleasant.

It starts as an idea. No, not even that. A shadow of a thought. I can ignore it at first, but I cannot destroy it. And so it grows, invisible, until the time when it forces my gaze towards it. I can almost forget about it, until I feel the familiar, creeping chill, spreading through my body. I shut my eyes.

Slowly, minute by minute, images force their way into my mind. I squeeze my eyes shut tighter, doing my utmost to keep them at bay. But it is no use. The more I try to ignore them, the faster they come, setting root in my mind, and growing like a cancer, inviting others to join them. I ball my hands up into fists, clenching my blanket so hard my knuckles grow pale.

_A gray, bloated face, dripping wet. It's glassy eyes staring out at me accusingly. A woman, face down in the mud, too weak to heave herself up so she can breathe. Her body convulses, as her lungs desperately long for air, and she breathes in the mud. A young, elven man with dark skin, barely old enough to shave. His eyes stare blankly out of his face, as the rain falls, washing the blood from his body. A young imperial girl, no more than six, trying to wake up her limp mother. Daanik, bruised, bloody, and barely breathing. Daanik, strung up by a vampire, screaming hoarsely. Daanik's lips parting, in a final, rasping breath, as his eyes glaze over. And a tiny baby, who would never reach adulthood. They're all standing around me, staring, reaching, dead hands clawing at my flesh. I scream._

I jerk upright in bed, panting hard. _Apparently, I did find sleep. _I think, bitterly, as I cover my face with my hands. I am covered in a freezing sheen of sweat. A tear rolls down my cheek, and I wipe it away angrily. _I can't stand it anymore._

I shove the covers off me, and they crumple into a pile on the floor. I step over them, wincing as my feet touch the cold stone. I shiver under my thin nightgown, and I wrap my arms around myself, feeling goosebumps. _Curse whoever's idea it was to chisel a stone cave into Skyrim's unforgiving ground. Then again_ _I suppose it would be colder on the surface.. _

Teeth chattering, I hurriedly unlock and open the door to my room, leading into a narrow hallway. I pad down it, my bare feet silent on the smooth stone floor. I whisper past Babette's room, trying not to wake her. I roll my eyes at myself. It was difficult to remember that she was a child of the night. More often than not, she acted just as her apparent age would suggest. She would most likely be up, playing with Lis right about now.

I hurry farther along the hall, until I come to Daanik's door. I raise my hand to knock, but then pause, and bite my lip. _I don't want to wake him…_I almost laugh at myself. Before Daanik, I would very rarely have considered such a minor issue, especially if it was the only thing standing in the way of something I wanted, _especially_ something as bad as I needed my nord's comfort right now.

I swallow back my nervousness, and knock, quietly. Enough to alert his attention, but probably not enough to wake him. _Well, quiet enough not to wake a normal person. But Daanik is an assassin, a fact you should probably have picked up on by now, Gabriella. _I shrug, mentally. Nothing to do now, but wait. I stand there, hugging myself. I shiver.

The door creaks open, and Daanik's face appears, stretched in a yawn. I smile, despite myself. His expression is so…_adorable_. I barely register the fact that he is not wearing a shirt.

"Gabriella?" He asks, sleepily. He rubs his eyes again. "What are you doing here?" His eyes widen, and before I can answer, he seems to wake up fully. "Gods, you're freezing! Come on, you need to get under a blanket." He takes my hand, and pulls me into the room after him. He grabs his blanket off the bed, and wraps it around me, like a cloak. My teeth are still chattering. He sits down on the bed, and I sit in front of him, leaning back against his chest. I close my eyes, feeling his warm, rough skin through the thin fabric on my back.

He wraps his arms around me, and kisses the top of my head. "Is everything okay?" He murmurs, stroking my hair.

I nod slowly, enjoying the feeling of his rough fingers sliding through my tresses. "Just had a nightmare." I murmur back, trying not to think about it. I settle back into him, more comfortably, and breathe in deeply. I smile at his scent. He smells of the sun, and flames, and the musky scent of burnt wood. _Appropriate for his name, _I think. _Daanik Sun-Strider. _

He shifts behind me. "You're welcome to stay here tonight, if you think it'll help." I look up at him, and smile gratefully. He grins back, and kisses me, softly, sweetly. He moves away from behind me, and I mourn the loss of his warmth. The feeling only lasts for a second however, as we lay down. He slides beneath the blanket, and wraps his arm around me. He nuzzles my neck, and I smile.

"Gabriella?" He asks after a moment, a question in his voice.

"Mhm?" I ask, half asleep.

He pauses a moment, before continuing. "Am I insane?"

I turn around halfway, grinning at him. "In my opinion, all the best people are at least slightly insane."

He laughs at that, and I turn back around, still smiling. He presses his warm form against me, and I snuggle closer to him. I reach for the hand around my waist, and grab onto it tightly.

And for the first time in ages, I fall asleep peacefully.

**A/N: Amaril will definitely have a point later on in the story. Hopefully. I honestly don't know :P But I digress, thank you for reading. Reviews bring chapters!**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Thank's for all your reviews, especially Urclremix! This chapter is a good bit longer than most others, and I hope it's not overdone. Enjoy!**

CHAPTER 13

_**Gabriella's POV**_

_Gods damned Skyrim. _I think sourly, as I trudge through the ever-thickening snowstorm. I yank my foot out of an especially deep snow drift, only to make the mistake of looking up, and being hit in the face by a biting gale. _And of course, it would be blowing directly in our direction. _Pulling my hood as low as it will go, I glance over at Daanik, and wipe the freezing crystals out of my eyes. Of course, the cursed nord is strolling along without a care in the world, as if it were a sunny day in the Solitude gardens. I glare at him, fancying that if my vision were not obscured by this _gods damned _storm, I would see the steam that is no doubt roiling off his cold-resistant hide.

He catches my look, and chuckles. "What is it now? I told you, I apologize for the snowstorm, I'm sorry about the way the Pale's weather is, I'm sorry that I'm a nord, and I apologize for allowing you to come on this contract with me."

I grumble something incoherent, and he laughs again, running up behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist. I push him, half-heartedly, but lose my balance, and pull us both into the snow. I yelp as the the icy substance finds it's way into every gap in my clothing. I try to push myself up, but only succeed in accidentally punching Daanik in the face. He grunts in surprise, then leaps on top of me, pinning me to the ground. I growl in mock-fury as his face appears above mine, his mouth quirked in a mischievous grin and his eyes sparkling.

He darts forward, and kisses my cheek, leaving a warm spot where his lips touched my skin. I blink at the quick motion, and giggle despite myself. He looks so…so…_adorable. _He smirks again, and in one fluid motion, he leaps up, pulling me with him. He brushes the snow off himself as best he can, just as I do so myself.

We start walking again, I in a better mood, he as content as always in the snow. After a while, however, I grow cold again. An idea crosses my mind, and I heat my hands as little as I can with fire magic, intending rub them along my arms and face. However, even the smallest amount of heat I manage to conjure would easily burn my skin, so I give up on the idea, promising myself that I will practice controlling the fire more when I get the chance. I resign myself to another uncomfortable few hours. _At least we have the longest part of the hike behind us. _I think back to the first hour of the trip, where I had pleaded with Daanik to simply run us Winterhold like he had before, on our way home from Windhelm. He had shaken his head mournfully, saying that it would not be safe with the storm clouding his vision, and with the knee-deep snow that could easily trip him. Even I had to admit, falling at that speed would be potentially fatal. I marvel again at the sheer velocity he could achieve with the shout.

_Hold on…shout. _A memory stirs in my mind, the memory of how Daanik had shouted at the sky the night we had admitted our love to each other. It had been storming as if the Divines themselves had wanted to cleanse Tamriel, and the nord had shouted the sky clear. I grit my teeth, forcing myself to remain calm.

"Daanik?" I ask, sweetly.

"Yep?" He says, not registering the malicious undertone of my voice.

"Do you happen to know a shout," I force out through clenched teeth, "That could clear up this snowstorm?"

He stops in his tracks, and turns around slowly. He grins apologetically, and rubs the back of his neck. I put my hands on my hips, and give him my most scathing glare.

"I, uh…I think I do, now that you mention it." He chuckles nervously, eyeing my with a bit of fear. He clears his throat. "Would you like me to-"

"_Yes_!"

"Okay, okay!" Shaking his head, he rolls his shoulders, and cracks his neck. And stretches his arms. And touches his toes. And decide his hamstrings could use a good warm-up as well. Calmly, I bend down, grab a handful of snow, and mold it into a hard lump. It connects with his back just as he stands up on one leg, and raises his arms in a circle above his head. His barely-muffled laughter forces a chuckle out of me as well. I shake my head, smiling, and roll my eyes.

"By the gods, you ice-brained nord!" Still chuckling, he finally raises his head to the sky. _How does the snow seem to avoid his eyes? _

"**LOK VAH KOOR!" **The thundering voice of the dragonborn echoes, and just like last time, a gale, or a shockwave, rushes out of Daanik's body. But it seems much less powerful than last time, lacking the deafening boom, and the thrumming feeling that came with it. But the clouds part, just as before, and I shrug, deciding that shouts must vary, just like magic. It was nearly impossible to replicate the concentration to create two exactly alike fireballs, or explosions. It may look the same to the casual observer, but to someone well-versed in destruction magic, the difference would be easily identifiable, if not obvious.

"Better?" He asks, raising his eyebrows.

I smile daintily, the picture of innocence. "Oh yes, thank you ever so much, kindly sir!"

He rolls his eyes, and continues strolling on towards Winterhold. Laughing, I wonder if I should jump on his back, and refuse to move until he carries me at least _half _of the way to our destination. I dismiss the thought quickly, however. _I would be displeased if he dropped me "on accident". _

With the snow out of my eyes, the blue sky above, and the day suddenly seeming much less dreary, I skip to catch up with the auburn-haired man. Well, I skip as well as one can in knee-deep snow.

When I am sufficiently caught up with him, I latch onto his arm. He looks down, bemused, and I wink at him. "Tell me about how you came to Skyrim." I ask, suddenly curious. He chuckles at the memory, only fueling my wish to know even more.

"Alright." He answers. "But only if you agree to tell me a story afterwards." I nod, hiding a grimace, hoping he won't ask the wrong questions.

"Well, I was hunting." He begins, looking ahead, his mouth quirking at the fond memory. "I was tracking this bear, right? Big bastard. Would have fed me for ages. And he had a gorgeous pelt, would easily have fetched a hundred septims." He grimaces at the apparent loss of the kill, as he continues. "Well, anyway, I was so intent on the hunt, that I snuck right across the border into Cyrodiil. Didn't even notice the abrupt change from rocky and snowy to green and earthy." I roll my eyes at his less-than stellar joke, and he laughs lightly. "So I had the bear in my sights, right? I had an arrow nocked, and the bow drawn. And right then, I heard a commotion from behind me. Of course, the bear heard it too, and whips his head around. And all he sees is yours truly." He laughs, embarrassed. "Now, I had stalked him up a very steep incline. Which is difficult, mind you. So, when he charged, he mostly just…bowled me over. And I crashed down, head over heels, right back into Skyrim."

I laugh at the image, so hard in fact that Daanik pauses for a moment to look at me, skeptically.

"You done?"

"Mhm." I nod, wiping my eyes.

"Very well. Now, if being knocked down a hill by a bear weren't bad enough, I landed right in the middle of the commotion I had heard earlier, which turned out to be an Imperial ambush." Shaking his head at his misfortune, he continues, "The Imperials wrapped it up pretty quickly, and since I was there and I wasn't one of them, they concluded that I must be a Stormcloak. Or," He amends, "I was also accused of crossing the border illegally. No one ever really cleared up the charges." He shrugs. "Either way, they took me prisoner, and sent me to the chopping block at Helgen."

I make a sympathetic sound. "I am sorry." I say, angered at the Imperials' apathetic actions.

To my surprise, he laughs. "Oh no, don't be. You see, I had a plan." He winks.

"And what was your plan, oh great and mighty warrior?" I ask, eyes dramatically wide. He gives me a look, before continuing.

"Well, you'll never guess who was in the cart with me." I watch him, expectantly, waiting for him to continue.

"Guess." He prompts me.

"…Really?"

"Yea, it helps the story."

I sigh. "Fine. Who?"

"Ulfric Stormcloak!" He exclaims.

I grimace. "He is a terrible ruler." Daanik nods in agreement.

"I know, but still, he's important to the story."

"Okay. Continue."

"Why thank you. As I was saying, I had a plan. And it involved using the small knife I had hidden under my shirt to cut the rope around my wrists, and pulling Ulfric's gag off so he could shout us to safety." I nod, understanding. As much as I detest Ulfric, it wasn't a bad plan. "But I was spared the effort, when Alduin himself decided it was lunch time, and decided that Helgen looked pretty appetizing."

I look at him worriedly, and he shrugs. "It really wasn't as traumatizing as you might think. I got out fine, and helped a kind Imperial soldier back to his family. I chose not to dwell on the suffering, and decided to occupy myself with doing as much good as I could. And it helped." He smiles, a bit proudly.

I step in front of him, and put my hands on his chest to stop him. I smile up at him, and he leans down to kiss me. His lips are deceptively soft, compared to the rest of his body. He is not an overly hairy, scarred man, but his form is obviously chiseled, and the perfect combination of lean and muscular. I lean into him, deepening the kiss a bit more, before pulling away. I start to say, "I love you", but I can see in his eyes, that he knows. So I smile, and kiss him again.

We pull apart, both a bit flushed. "Alright, now it's my turn to ask a question. Wait, no. Can I ask two? I promise, the first one is short."

Sighing, I give in, knowing that he will beg and plead until I allow him his request anyway. "Yes, Daanik. You may ask two questions."

His face brightens. "Awesome! Okay, first off, what's your full name?"

I chuckle at the slight absurdity of it. We had already professed our love to each other, yet he didn't know my last name. Then again, I hadn't known his until a few days ago, when I had asked him the same question. "My full name is Gabriella Ashcrown." I murmur, the memory of how I came by the name bringing a slight smile to my face.

Daanik frowns. "That's an uncommon name for a dark elf, isn't it? How did you come by it?"

I nod. "Yes, it is an uncommon name, and it is a long story, and so counts as your second question."

"Yea, yea alright. Go on, tell me!" He says, too eager to complain.

I pause for a moment, gathering my thoughts. "I left Morrowind when I was a young girl, no more than twelve years of age. And before you ask, the reasons for me leaving are a story for another time." I wink at him, and he scowls, prompting me to continue the story.

"I was staying at a less-than pleasant inn in Riften, the Bee and Barb. It had seemed like a terrible place to me, with cutthroats around every corner, not to mention the Thieve's Guild. But in retrospect, I was far better off there than in that racist den Windhelm." I grimace at the thought of the city, and it's disgusting Gray Quarter, little more than a slum, where the dunmer inhabitants are forced to live. "Anyway, I was in a clearing, practicing destruction magic. I had always had a keen sense for fire, conjuring flames at three, and creating full fireballs by the time I was six. At thirteen, the much sought-after master level spells were nearly in my reach." I smile proudly at the thought, and Daanik does as well.

"So, I was doing my best to cast the Fire Storm spell, but I never managed to actually execute it. Fire would build up around me, but then simply fade away. Released, instead of cast. Anyway, I was frustrated, and not paying attention to my surroundings. A breton bandit in ebony armor managed to strike me from behind with a swirling torrent of ice, stunning me." I try to keep my face expressionless, as I remember the fear. The things he had said to me…_No. _I shake my head, and continue.

"Anyway, just as he was about to finish the job he had started, I felt something shift inside of me, and the barrier between myself and the fire was disappeared. Suddenly, it leaped to my every command without any effort on my part." I smile, fondly remembering my first kill. "Just as he was about to drive a dagger into my neck, I let off a massive explosion, obliterating anything living in a good two-hundred feet." Daanik whistles appreciatively, and I nod my head dramatically. "Thank you, thank you. So, apparently, someone had heard the explosion, and come running to see what it was. That person happened to be Arnbjorn. He saw how powerful I was, and that I had killed a man, and thought I would make a worthy addition to the Dark Brotherhood."

I smile dreamily. It was my first happy memory from Skyrim. "After I had cast Fire Storm, any trees nearby had been completely reduced to ash. It was floating through the air like black and gray snowflakes, and apparently, some landed on my head in a rough circle. So when Arnbjorn saw me, he immediately labeled me "little Ashcrown"."

Daanik shifts, looking pained. "Can I ask _one_ more question? Please? I'm sure you can find a short answer for it."

I groan, and bury my face in my hands. "But will you be content with a short answer, I wonder?" I grumble. "_Fine. _One more."

The nord's eyes brighten. "Awesome! Okay, so, why did you take that as your name? Why not just use your old one?"

I sigh, heavily. "That is a long and difficult tale to tell, and meant for another time. Suffice it to say, that Skyrim felt like a new beginning. A new name, a new future."

Daanik nods, appeased, and I smile. _He is always understanding when the time calls for it. _

Suddenly, my ears catch a strange sound, like a far-off roar. I cock my head, trying to make it out more clearly. Another sound follows, and a rush of air, shaking the tall pines ahead of us. Another blast of air, and a whooshing sound almost like…_Like the flapping of giant wings. _My eyes widen in recognition, as the roar sounds again, and a massive white shape soars straight up from behind the line of pine trees.

"Holy fuck."

Daanik looks at me, and almost laughs. "Did you just curse? That's so precious." I glower at him, pointing wordlessly at the dragon. "Ah, yes. That. Well, stay back and hit him with fireballs. Avoid his frost breath, and you should be fine." Seeing my terrified look, he adds, "It's just a frost dragon, don't worry. Now if it were an ancient dragon…then you should worry. But this, this isn't a problem."

In a single, fluid motion, he whips his bow and a steel-tipped arrow off his back, nocking it perfectly. He aims for barely a second, before releasing the shaft straight into the dragon's soft underbelly. The creature roars, more in fury than pain. Instinctively, I let the flames flicker in and around my hands, licking up my forearms. The familiar heat steadies me. I will the fire in my right hand to become focused and blindingly hot, and the flames in my left to grow unstable, and volatile. I release them both, aiming for the dragon's monstrous white form. The fireball from my left hand misses, but the bolt of heat from my right strikes one of it's hind legs. The creature roars again, and swoops down towards us, a freezing torrent gushing from it's maw.

I concentrate on reflecting the magic, and throw up a ward with both of my hands. Daanik barrel-rolls behind it as well, and the dragon passes over us harmlessly. He straightens back up as soon as he can, and looks to the sky, searching for the creature. It comes at us again from behind, and I hear the nord's quick intake of breath, my only warning before he unleashes a deafening shout.

"**JOOR ZAH FRUL!" **The air itself seems to tremble, and a wave of blue energy explodes from Daanik's throat. It strikes the dragon mid-flight, and it jerks back, uttering a shriek of surprise, and something akin to fear. It's wings seem to fail, and it drops to the ground like a rock. It lands with an earth-shattering crash, roaring in anger. I pepper it with bolts of heat, while the auburn-haired nord races forward, twin daggers unsheathed. With a tremendous leap, he vaults on top of the dragon's massive head, stabbing it again and again. The monster roars and whips it's neck, spewing ice everywhere. I jump behind a thick tree trunk just in time to avoid the freezing stream.

I peer around the edge of the trunk, just in time to see Daanik skidding along the snow, finally thrown off by the creature's crazed movements. He gets up, jerkily, his hood torn off during the battle, blood staining the snow crimson. The dragon stops twisting, and glares straight at him. For a moment, the clearing is deadly silent. Then the beast arches it's neck, and Daanik draws in a deep breath. The two shouts blend together in an indistinct, guttural roar. In that instant, as the two mimic each other's movements, I catch a glimpse of the dragon soul inside of my nord, as he rears his head, releasing a torrent of flame at the dragon. As each of them roars their loudest Thu'um, testing each other's power, his identity as Ysmir, the Dragon of the North, is clearer than ever.

Just as quickly as it began, it is over, with Daanik's fire breath exploding out of him, blasting past the dragon's frost breath and melting it's scales from it's hide. It screams one final time, then collapses in a heap. It's corpse begins to glow, and wind whistles across the landscape. The dragon's flesh dissolves in a whirling stream, flowing into and through Daanik and blowing his hair back, as he kneels next to the massive skeleton. His lips move, and he touches the great beast's skull. He gets back up, and strides over to me.

"You handled yourself extremely well." He says, "Especially for your first dragon." He seems tired, and almost regretful.

"Thank you, but I barely helped. You brought it down, and you slew the beast. Are you alright?" I ask, before he can contradict me. He looks down at his bleeding shoulder, and nods.

"Oh yea, this is nothing. You should see the other guy." He smiles weakly.

"No, I meant _you, _not your arm. I mean, I am glad that your arm is alright, but that is not what I was asking."

He sighs, and grimaces slightly. "Yea, I'm fine. It's just that, every time I kill one, it feels like killing one of my own. It seems like such a waste, to fell such a wise and powerful creature. But it's in a dragon's nature, to dominate, so we fight against each other for authority." He smiles sadly.

"And you slew Alduin, their leader. So they challenge you for leadership of their kind?" I ask, suddenly understanding.

He nods. "Exactly. Which is why I don't come across too many young dragons like that one anymore. They're usually not stupid enough to challenge me." He grins. "Well, relatively young, at least. He was probably a few hundred years old, at least."

I pause. "Wait, wait. So that was one of the weaker dragons?" I exclaim, incredulously.

He laughs at that. "Yea, unfortunately. Trust me, if one of the ancient ones had attacked us, we'd most certainly still be fighting him."

I eye his torn shoulder, as it drips into the snow. "You need to drink a healing potion. Here." I hand him a small, red vial.

He sways a bit, nodding and drinks the potion. His face clears up almost instantly, as his skin knits back together, barely leaving a scar.

"Ahh. That helped. Thanks." He winks, looking like the Daanik I know again. He leans forward, kissing me deeply.

I push him away, laughing. "Come on, we have to get to Winterhold."

He scowls, muttering something about how Winterhold "wasn't an entire city anyway", and that killing a single citizen of the "collection of huts" would "reduce it's population by half". I giggle at his grumpiness, and trudge through the snow after him.

_**Daanik's POV**_

We finally reach Winterhold by what I assume is sundown, but I can't really tell. The snow storm had picked up again, tripling it's fury, as if trying to compensate for the time I had cleared it. Gabriella and I had agreed that it was best not to shout again, since that was probably what had attracted the frost dragon to us in the first place. And so we had stumbled along, the dark elf more so than I, for the last few hours of our hike.

We finally reach Winterhold's inn, stumbling through the door and struggling to close it against the freezing gale. I brush the snow off Gabriella's face, and pull her close, warming her with my body. My lips brush hers lightly, and she presses her small form against my body.

Someone clears his throat behind us. "Welcome to the Frozen Hearth!" A tall, blonde man rumbles, overly loudly. Gabriella rolls her eyes at his obvious discomfort. We walk up to the bar, and sit down, I leaning on my elbows, Gabriella laying face-down on the counter.

"Name's Dagur. What'll it be, friends?" He asks, heartily.

"A pint of your finest mead, friend." Gabriella mumbles something, and waves her hand indiscriminately without looking up.

I chuckle. "Make that two pints." I amend, raising two fingers.

He nods. "I think I've got a couple clean mugs around here some place."

I ignore the comment, and look around the inn while I wait for our drinks. It's a slightly run-down affair, but it's cozy. There's a fire crackling in the hearth, and furs lining the floor. We seem to be the only current patrons, but that's not surprising. It's late, and Winterhold is a small town.

Dagur sets two tall, frothing mugs of honey-golden mead in front of us. Gabriella raises her head at the sound, just enough to see over her arms. She makes a pleased sound as she sees the warm beverage, and gulps it quickly. I grin at her eagerness.

"Slow down there. Don't want you stumbling around the tavern like an old drunk." She gives me a scathing look, and finishes her glass.

"More please." She smiles sweetly.

Dagur chuckles, and fills her mug again. After a minute she turns to me, with an extremely relaxed expression.

"You know," She says, pointing directly at my face quite unnecessarily, "You have_ really _pretty eyes. _Really pretty!"_

I bite back a laugh. "Gabby, are you already drunk after only one mug of mead?"

She frowns, and flips her hair back. "_Don't _call me Gabby, that is not my name. That is _not _my name! And I don't, _I _do not think so! _I _think I'm handling myself pretty _well_! "

"Oh yea, is that so?" I ask, skeptically, sipping at the warm drink. She nods vigorously.

"You know, _you_ canbe _very_ condescending sometimes Daanik. _Daanik._" She giggles, and repeats my name again slowly, annunciating every syllable. Her giggles turn to all-out laughs, as she finishes her second mug of the golden liquid. She waves her hand high in the air. "Another, barkeep!" She hiccups, and giggles at the sound.

"Eh, no." I interrupt, taking the mug out of her outstretched hand and holding it out to the chuckling Dagur.

"_No_!"She complains, drawing out the word, and pouting miserably. I can't help but laugh at her expression. She shakes her head angrily, her hair falling into her eyes. She glares at me from under the white curtain, and I laugh again.

"Come on, honey. Let's get a room, and you can sleep…whatever this is, off." I toss Dagur a few septimes, and he points us towards a room up the stairs.

Gabriella slides off her stool, stumbling so much that I have to catch her. She mumbles something unintelligible, and leans on me heavily. We struggle to get up the narrow stairs together, but we simply don't fit side-by side.

"Alright, to Oblivion with this." I curse, and scoop the dark elf up and over my shoulder. She shrieks and laughs, pounding my back in mock fury. Her high-pitched, drunken laugh is so infectious, that I can't help but laugh with her. I race up the stairs, and lay her down on the bed. I collapse next to her, laughing so hard that no sound comes out. We laugh until tears stream down our face, clutching at each other, gasping for air.

"By the gods, Gabriella, you are the _funniest_ drunk I have _ever _met. Really! No, _really_!" I drawl, feeling the effects of my own mead.

She starts to reply, poking me vigorously in the chest, but hiccups, and starts giggling again. Suddenly, on impulse, I reach forward, and take her face in my hands. She looks up, her eyes round and surprised.

"You're so beautiful." I whisper, through a bit of a haze. She bites her lip, and tucks her hair behind a pointed ear. I lean forward, very tentatively, as if it were our first kiss. She closes her eyes, and leans forward as well. Our lips meet, hers so soft and warm against mine. I deepen the kiss, sliding my tongue along her bottom lip, eliciting a soft moan from her. She parts her lips, permitting me entrance. She slides her tongue out to meet mine, teasing it with the tip. Our tongues fight for dominance, and I moan at the feeling. I slip into her mouth, exploring every inch of it.

I pull away slightly, and she groans in displeasure. I grin, and kiss the corner of her mouth. She grows still, as I trail kisses down her chin, nibbling at her jaw, and down her throat, unlacing her robe as I go. Every time my lips meet her skin, she lets out a quiet gasp, and finally a moan when I run my tongue over the cavity of her neck. I flick away the last tie of her cloak, and push it off her shoulders. My eyes widen in pleasant surprise; she's wearing nothing underneath it but her underclothes.

I fumble with the clasps on my armor, seconds away from just cutting it off. She lays her smooth fingers over mine, unbuckling it in seconds. She runs her hands over my chest, biting her lip and looking up at me, her eyes lidded and predatory.

We tear the rest of our clothes from each other with a desperate hunger, kissing and biting every inch of each other's bodies we can reach.

As we sink into the throes of passion, I wonder dimly whether or not being drunk for our first time together is a bad beginning to a relationship.

Then I wonder if, perhaps, I should stop pondering the moment, that maybe this isn't the best time for analyzing, or for thinking at all. So I give in to the feeling of her soft form moving against mine, and for once, clear my mind. Or, rather, let Gabriella clear it for me.

"_I love you_." We whisper, over and over again, throughout the night.

**A/N: Let me know what ya think! Thank's for reading :)**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Sorry that it's taken me so long to update, I had some personal issues that robbed me of my inspiration. It's back though, so quit your crying ;) Also I just want to thank every single one of you who's reviewed this damn thing. Every little bit helps :) Oh also, as an afterthought, I was wondering if anyone would want to do some Gabriella or Daanik art. I'd use it for the story's cover. If anyone's interested, review, or PM me or something. Enjoy!**

CHAPTER 14

**Daanik's POV**

_The sky glows a feral red, as the last rays of sun illuminate a dreadful scene. Smoke rises above a black plain. Fire crackles, and the stench of burning flesh forces it's way into my nostrils. It settles on me, like a greasy, blood-smeared cloak. Carrion birds screech, and flap excitedly, anxiously awaiting their feast. I look up, trying to see the end, but none is in sight. Corpses, enough to fill cities, stretch as far as the eye can see. Young men, women, the elderly, all dead or left to die in the dirt. _

_My feet drag as I tread numbly through the field, seeing everything but believing nothing. I see hills in the distance, and drag myself towards them, in the hope that I'll be able to see further with the added height. I place my foot down, and hear a crunch, as something breaks beneath my boot. I look down, recoiling at the sight before me, as something akin to a choking sound escapes from my throat. A slim, pale hand, newly bloody and obviously feminine, is waving limply from under a pile of bodies. As I watch, it's movements slow, and then stop, completely. I rush over, trying to dig the woman out. I grab the torso of a massive orc, and heave with all my might. His body shifts, and I lay him down on his back, leaving his slashed abdomen open to the air. A terrible stench hits me like a punch, and I retch over my shoulder, dry-heaving until nothing comes out. _

_I wipe my mouth with my wrist, and turn my attention to the woman before me. Her skin is milky white, her hair, golden as the sun. But I came too late. Her body is limp, and unmoving. Her glassy eyes stare at me accusingly, as if to say, "you could have helped." I shudder, and turn away, Continuing to trudge towards the hills. I squint, trying to make them out. Now that I'm closer, I can make out more detail. They seem misshapen, somehow. I start to walk faster, my boot squelching in the muddy grass. _But it isn't mud! _My mind screams, but I ignore it. My stomach twists, and the closer I get to the hills, the worse it feels, as I slowly come to a terrible realization. I stop in my tracks, and heave again. I taste __bile. I want to clench my eyes shut, but I look up, in fascinated horror. _

_Before me stands a veritable mountain of corpses, nearly twenty feet high. Limp bodies lay there, rotting, piled up like so many pieces of garbage. Sightless eyes stare up at the sky, faces twisted in their finally expressions. I see an elf, a bosmer woman, with her features twisted in rage, her teeth bared. I imagine her fighting tooth and nail until her last breath, standing alone against her enemies, until she is overwhelmed by sheer numbers. I look at the face of a young man, a nord. His eyes are closed, and his expression is serene. I can almost hear his last words, barely a whisper. "On this day, I go to Sovngarde…". _

_I see a Breton, with his face twisted in fear, as if his last moments had been spent on his knees, begging for his life to be spared. His eyes widening in terror as the blade descends to meet his chest._

_The crows descend._

_I stagger away from the pile of corpses with revulsion, my heart pounding against my ribs. My head snaps up, as I hear a sound. A deep, echoing thud that reverberates across the field like a physical force. It sounds again, and again, an ancient, doom-driven rhythm. Unbidden, my feet begin to move along with the beat of the drum, no longer dragging, but stamping, like a soldier's. As the pounding reaches an almost deafening crescendo, the sky splits apart, and a voice, filled with terrible power roars a broken word:_

"_DOVAHKIIN!"_

_The sky darkens, and my eyes open, only to find myself face-to-face with Amaril. His liquid golden eyes are wide and afraid, and filled with a terrible knowing. He utters a single word, in an alien voice. It reverberates in my skull like a death-gong, with the weight of an irrefutable truth. _

"_Soon."_

With a muffled gasp, my eyes truly open. I sit bolt-upright, the covers falling off my sweat-drenched body, leaving a chill in their place. I rub my face, convincing myself that I am truly awake this time. I look around the room, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings, and readying myself for another nightmare. Then I remember last night, how Gabriella and I had arrived in Winterhold. She had proven how well she could hold her mead, and I had had to carry her up to this room after all of two mugs. A small smile tugs at the corners of my lips as I remember how the rest of the night had proceeded. I turn to look down at the ivory-haired dunmer. She shifts a bit in her sleep, but seems otherwise unaffected by my waking. She breathes a heavy sigh, and she frowns lightly, as she tugs at the misplaced blankets.

I breathe a kiss on her forehead, and carefully stand up. I pull on my armor, without so much as a creak of the leather. I buckle my boots, and slide my daggers into their respective sheathes; one on my left hip, and the other concealed within my right boot. Finally, I don my hood, and pull it down as far as it will go.

I make my way to the door, then double back, pulling a piece of parchment and a thin length of charcoal from my pack. Quickly, I scribble: _Went to take care of some business. Be back before breakfast. In fact, I'll _bring _you breakfast. Stay safe, love. _I tuck the materials back into my pack, and turn back around towards the door. I tread carefully down the hall, and take the stairs two at a time. I notice Dagur still sitting at the bar, and head over to him.

"What time is it?" I ask, my voice still raspy from sleep.

"'Bout three, I'd say." He squints, thinking. "Yea, that's 'bout right."

I nod. "Thank you."

I head towards the exit of the tavern, and Dagur calls after me, "Oi, next time, keep it down, eh?"

I chuckle, and push open the door. An icy wind bites deep into my face, and I vainly attempt to pull my hood lower. After a minute, though, I'm grateful for the chill. It clears my head. I step down the few wooden stairs leading towards the road, and stride across the snowy ground, the crystals crunching beneath my feet. I only have to walk for a couple of meters before I'm out of Winterhold entirely. I sigh at the desolate city. _It must be terrible, to be Jarl of this place. To rule over a court of five people, half of them family…_I feel sympathy towards Korir, and his plight. Doomed to watch over a kingdom of five, all the while fearing the mages just outside his borders, knowing beyond a doubt that they could decimate his city with a snap of their fingers. I briefly debate killing the poor man, just to put him out of his misery, but dismiss the idea. _It would feel like killing one of the last members of a nearly extinct species. _I chuckle at my exceedingly un-funny joke, and continue to walk.

Once I'm a few miles outside of the city, I check my map, making sure that I'm on the correct path. I chew on my bottom lip, trying to get my bearings in the midst of Winterhold's ever present snowstorm. After a minute, I decide to penetrate into the forest to my left, and hope for the best. A few paces into the trees, a brave wolf lunges for my throat. I barely pause, the dagger on my hip almost leaping to my hand. I swipe the blade across the beast's throat, and it yelps, falling to the ground in a furry heap. I clean my dagger in the snow, and continue on my way.

After a few more encounters with assorted beasts of the wild, including a particularly angry saber cat, a dilapidated cabin comes into view. I grit my teeth, reminded of Hern's shack. I cast a glance down at my left palm, where the only visible scar of my ordeal remains. I wince, remembering the knife twisting. Babette had been able to heal all my other wounds completely, but had had only enough strength to knit the bones in my hand back together. The flesh healed on it's own, leaving a disc-shaped mark.

Squeezing my fist shut, I calm myself with the knowledge that Hern was a vampire, whereas this man is most definitely not. _Why someone would wish the death of a poor beggar, I'll never know. _I stride towards the building, not even bothering with the effort of sneaking. This far from the city, and in the midst of such a storm, no one would hear him. _Not to mention that if he's actually awake at this hour, he won't be able to see me until it's far too late. _

I nudge the door open with my foot, unable to abandon _all _sense of caution. I cast a searching glance around the room, and notice only a fire pit, a pot with a few soggy leeks in it, a small bed, and the dirty man sleeping in it. I tread over to him, carefully stepping over his, _ahem_, kitchen. I press my hand over his mouth, and his eyes open wide. Before he has a chance to struggle, my blade finds his throat, and blood runs down his neck. His body goes slack, and I release him. I clean my blade on his already filthy tunic, leaving a fresh stain against a backdrop older ones.

I step out of the hut, and inhale deeply, then exhale. I watch as my breath forms a cloud of mist, and then make my way back towards the city. I let my thoughts wander, as I admire the environment. The snow has stopped falling, leaving my vision clear, and making sightseeing an option. The first rays of light climb tentatively up and over the horizon, barely hinting at the resplendent sun yet to come. A dragon roars in the distance, and I look up, searching for it. I glimpse a flash of scales miles away, as the great beast circles the peak of a mountain. I lower my hood, enjoying the feeling of the cold on my skin. A breeze stirs my hair, and the pines around me, dusting my body in snow. I grin at the feeling, and wipe the crystals from my face.

Suddenly, an unpleasant thought manages to worm it's way into my mind, ruining my mood. I think of the bloody scene in my dream, and grow uneasy. I dream often, but I almost never have nightmares. In fact, I've had two, that I can remember, in as many years. And this one hadn't been like the others. While most of my nightmares involved some half-remembered childhood memory, followed by the bandit attack, this one had been completely different. It had been strange, and confusing. And what had Amaril meant, when he had said "soon"? Such carnage was almost beyond the limits of Alduin himself, and the black dragon was dead. So who or what would be powerful, and cruel, enough to cause such a slaughter? _Surely he didn't mean Alduin's return. Arngier said it may be possible for him to return at the end of time, but not so soon. There wouldn't be a prophecy, a means to defeat him, if he was going to simply come back just months later. _No, Amaril's warning had been referring to something else.

I stop my train of thought for a moment, to remind myself of exactly _what_ I'm doing. _Daanik Sun-Strider, you're accepting a dream, and the word of a figment of your imagination, as fact. Just…just keep that in mind. _I wonder for a moment if that's Amaril talking, or me, then drive _that_ particular question firmly out of my mind, refusing to deal with it's complications.

I ponder my dream until the city comes into sight. Frustrated, I force the thought to the back of my mind, annoyed at my lack of progress. Sighing, I continue on my way. The sun is just peeking over the horizon as I step into the city, bathing the world in a soft, golden light. It casts strange shadows across the ground, making my surroundings seem unreal, somehow, as if a leaf could be as sturdy as Solitude's walls, yet as fragile as paper-thin glass. I marvel at the sight, before hurrying back to the inn. _I hope Gabriella isn't awake yet. _

Once I reach the inn, I talk to Dagur, and buy two mugs of tea, two sweetrolls, some baked potatoes, several strips of fried bacon, scrambled eggs, and toasted bread with butter. I pay the man, and precariously carry the over-laden tray up the stairs. I nudge the door open with my foot, just as Gabriella sits back down on the bed. She's wearing one of my shirts, the hem falling down to her knees, because of our height difference. The sight makes me smile. She looks up as I enter, and grins at me, or rather, at what I'm carrying.

"I just woke up, and saw your note." She says, not taking her eyes off the sweetrolls.

"Oh yea?" I ask, deliberately not moving from the door, keeping the food just out of reach.

"Mhm." She says, her stomach growling. Neither of us say anything. I look at her, eyebrows raised, amused. My lips twitch.

"Well, bring that damn tray over!" She yells, and I burst out laughing. Despite my motions, the wooden platter remains stable.

I stride over to the bed, and place the tray on her lap. I sit down next to her, bemusedly watching as she decimates a sweetroll.

"I didn't know what you liked, so I got everything." I say. I roll my eyes, as she starts on the second pastry. "Now I know what to get in the future." I mutter. She stops eating, and leans over, pressing her lips to mine.

"Thank you very, very much." She whispers, smiling against my lips. I kiss her back, and feel her shiver. I grab one of the mugs of hot tea, and press it into her hand.

"Here, take this. It's warm, it'll help." She sips it gratefully, and continues to eat. I rescue a few strips of bacon, a potato, and a piece of toast from her clutches before she can devour them, and nibble on them myself. And yet, she still finishes before I do.

"How can someone as small as you eat more than someone like me." I grumble under my breath, as I reach for the now empty tray. She laughs, and punches my arm. I chuckle as well, and take the tray back down to Dagur.

"Done already?" He exclaims, and I roll my eyes. He laughs, and wipes the tray down, shaking his head.

And idea strikes me, and I can't help but ask the gruff man about it. "Hey, you wouldn't happen to have any bathing amenities, would you?" I ask, hoping against hope that the inn might be better equipped than it looked.

Dagur grins, and nods. "Finest bathouse in the Pale, actually. The Frozen Hearth is built with a pump and filtration system, with enchanted piping underneath, allowing for constantly flowing, heated water." He recites, and then sighs. "Sad to say we're not unique nor famous enough to attract visitors, so the baths remain mostly unused. But they still work well. Just turn the wheel closest to whatever tub you choose, and the water will start flowing."

I nod, and ask what the price would be. Dagur shakes his head, saying, "No, friend, you've given me more business today than I usually get in a week. Consider it a thank you, and a reminder to remember the old place if you're ever in Winterhold." He winks, and I laugh, thanking him.

Dagur points down a flight of stairs behind the bar, and I all but run down them, excited at the prospect of finally being able to wash off the filth of travel. The waterfall in the sanctuary is nice, but freezing cold. Gabriella had tried to heat it with fire magic once, but the result had been boiling heat for about five seconds, immediately replaced by icy cold water as the falls continued to flow.

I jump down the last of the stairs, and take a look around the room. It's about as long as the main room of the tavern itself, but wider, with wooden floors and walls. There are three circular basins at the end of the room, each around four feet wide, and five feet deep. They're made of polished stone, and have holes along their sides, and one in the bottom. _Gods, there's even a seat carved into the side. This is perfect!_

I locate the old, metal wheel near the tub on the far right. It's a bit rusty, but turns just fine. I hear the faint sound of water rushing beneath my feet, and sure enough, the water begins to gush out of the nozzles on the side of the tub, in a circular pattern. I unbuckle my armor as quickly as I can, stripping down to nothing, and laying it none too carefully on top of a barrel in the corner. I tread over to the basin, and reach down to feel the water's temperature, and grin at the exquisite warmth. I lower myself into it's depths, and sigh, as the tension flows from my body, carried away by the pleasant current.

I close my eyes, and enjoy the warmth. My muscles relax from a tension that I didn't know existed, and I'm tempted to slip into unconsciousness.

_You did only sleep for less than three hours. _Amaril points out.

_But Gabriella might worry. _I interject. _I didn't tell her where I went._

_Nah, mate, she'll just ask Dagur where you went off to. Come on, give us both a break. _

I sigh again, knowing that I shouldn't let myself sleep. That I have responsibilities, and that I shouldn't have gotten in this damn tub in the first place. So I promise myself that I won't drift off.

But I do anyway.

**A/N: Don't forget to leave a review. A long, detailed one ;) Oh, also, I may end this in a couple chapters. There WILL be a sequel, I'm just not sure how long I'm gonna keep going with this story particularly. Anyway, it'll be a few chapters yet though. **


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Soooo so sorry I haven't updated! I've had some personal stuff to deal with, but it's mostly cleared up at this point. So I'll be updating again. Anyway, I hope you like the chapter :) **

CHAPTER 15

_**Daanik's POV**_

_Drip._ "Eugh." I grunt, as I feel something splash against my nose. I wipe at it sleepily, and then return my arm to it's comfortable resting place beneath the warm water. I sigh in contentment, and settle back into sleep.

_Drip._

"Ehh no." I mumble, wiping at my nose again, more vigorously this time. I tilt my head down slightly, to avoid any further cold droplets. I settle deeper into the water, and let myself enjoy the soothing heat.

_Drip._

"Gods…damnit." I mutter, still refusing to open my eyes. I move my head all the way back, and wait a few moments, with my hands in the air, anticipating another drop. When none appear, I gradually settle back down, inch by inch, and lay my head on my hands. I start to drift off again.

_Drip._

"For the fucking love of Mara!" I yell, snapping my eyes open and wiping my face furiously. A clear, tinkling laugh fills the room, and I look up to see Gabriella sitting on the edge of the basin, head thrown back, laughing. I notice a wet sponge in her left hand, and narrow my eyes at the offending object. Clearly, it was to blame for my less-than-warm rousing.

"A simple nudge on the shoulder would have done the job excellently, my love." I growl, sinking deeper into the pool.

She tosses her hair back and flashes me a charming smile. "Oh but Daanik, would you not rather be awakened in a gradual manner, instead of being jerked out of your slumber?" She switches expressions rapidly, slumping, and pouting slightly, and looking very forlorn. "I was only trying to do the best for you." She says, eyes wide in mock sadness.

I grumble under my breath, and flick the surface of the pool, sending water in her direction. She squeaks, and throws the sponge at me, which I barely manage to avoid. Laughing, I swipe my arm, sending a huge wave at her. She smirks, and whips up her hands, palms glowing. The water freezes almost instantly, dropping to the ground with an audible _thud._ A fist-sized chunk breaks off, and splashes into the basin. Quick as a flash, she nudges the larger piece with her foot, dumping the entire thing into the hot water.

"Ahhh!" I yell, scrambling out of the rapidly-cooling liquid. "You got ice cubes in it!" She cackles evilly, but then stops, and grins predatorily as she looks me up and down. Unabashed, I cross my hands behind my head, and stretch vigorously. She giggles like a school girl at my antics, and eyes me appreciatively as I grab a towel off the wall, and dry myself with it. I hang the towel off my right shoulder, and walk over to her, eyebrows raised.

"What?" I ask, with a completely straight face. She laughs, and leans up to press her lips against mine. Her soft, gentle kiss become a bit more urging, as she nibbles on my lower lip. Her hand snakes out to rest on my chest, then trails down, tracing the contours of my musculature, until her fingers reach my hip bone. Her fingers curl, and her nails scrape my skin, leaving an almost searing trail and eliciting a pleased sound from my throat. She grins mischievously, biting her lip, and pulls away. I groan in displeasure at her teasing, and she chuckles. She glides back over to me, pressing herself against my much larger body. She stands up on her toes, trailing her lips up my neck, over my jaw, and finally reaching my ear.

"Later." She whispers, and nibbles on my earlobe. She grins again, deviously, and sweeps out of the room.

I sit down on a bench, hard. I grab my armor and pull it on, shaking my head and muttering under my breath. I glare at the dark wooden floorboards. I pull on my gloves, and flex my hands, the cool leather barely creaking. I check all the buckles on my apparel, making sure that they're securely fastened. Satisfied, I grab my hood, and twist the squeaky valve to turn off the water. It stops flowing almost immediately, and I vault up the stairs, taking four at a time.

"Did you enjoy the baths?" Dagur asks, looking up from cleaning a dirty mug.

I pause for a moment. "It was…" I begin, gesturing grandiosely, "…simply magnificent, my good nord." I grin at him, and he laughs. "I can't tell you how good it was to wash away the filth of travel. Are you sure you don't want any compensation?"

He declines, saying, "No my friend, I'm just glad the baths are getting some use. Don't forget about the old place though. We need all the customers we can get, bein' in Winterhold and all." I give my assent, and promise that I'll stop by as often as humanly possible.

I hurry up the stairs in anticipation, but when I enter the room, Gabriella is already packing. She looks annoyed. Not enough to be angry, but not so little as to be at completely ease, either. I grab my own pack, assuming that we're leaving.

"Is everything alright?" I ask, studying the elf's face. Her brow is furrowed, and her jaw is set, but her eyes remain soft. I tilt my head to the side, trying to understand her expression. _It's like, aggravated worry, or something. She's angry, but that's not it. She's worried, but she doesn't want to show it. Or she's not completely aware of it herself._

"Yes." She says, picking up the few pieces of her discarded clothing off the floor, and stuffing them in her pack. "It is just that…" She pauses, and now her worry makes itself much more evident. "Well, Astrid sent a letter, by courier."

I whistle in astonishment. Astrid never sent letters. It was common sense; they were just too easily traced. Finding and interrogating a courier would be child's play for the authorities, or someone else wishing to harm the Brotherhood. "What did it say?" I ask, immensely curious as to what could be so important that Astrid would break one of her favorite rules: Leave no trail.

Gabriella sighs, slipping the last of her potions into the side pockets of her pack. "That's just the thing, it didn't say anything, except for the words, _'You're needed home. Now' _." She looks up at me, chewing on her bottom lip. "What in Oblivion could that mean?"

I shrug, a tinge of apprehension settling in my stomach. "I have no idea. But whatever it is, we should hurry. I mean, Astrid's words could be interpreted in many ways. But…" I pause, and grimace. "If the worst comes to pass, and there's a threat on the sanctuary, it'd be child's play to take it. Last I heard, Veezara and Babette were out on contracts of their own. Hopefully, Nazir is back by now, but even still, with half the family gone…" I trail off, filling the air with a grim silence.

Gabriella shoulders her pack. "Then we must run." She says, determinedly, and strides out of the room. I grab my own pack off the bed, and jog after her.

"Listen, I'm sure we can barter some horses off someone in Winterhold." I suggest, catching up to her in the hall. She gives her assent, and we head into the main section of the tavern. I ask Dagur if he knows of anyone selling a pair of steeds.

"There's only one for sale out here. And in fact, I'm selling him meself. A fine stallion, by the name of Ticemius. I recently inherited him from my ol' uncle in Cyrodill, but haven't had much use for the poor animal." He steps out from behind the bar, and leads Gabriella and I out the back door of the tavern. "Bein' an innkeeper, I don't travel much." He explains, striding to a shabby-looking stable a few yards from the inn. "And it'll do him no good just wasting away here." The blonde man opens the old wooden door, and disappears inside. A second later, he emerges again, leading a magnificent, sandy-colored horse by it's reigns.

The stallion whips it's mane, snorting spiritedly. "He's a fine animal." I say, with more than a little admiration in my voice. "How much do you want for him?"

Dagur answers immediately. "Five-hundred Septims, if you don't mind."

I count out the coin, and hand Dagur a heavy leather purse. He accepts it gratefully, without weighing it, or checking to see if the coins are real. I find myself liking the man more and more, the better I get to know him.

He hands me the reigns, with a tinge of regret in his eyes. "Take good care of him for me." He implores, as we clasp each other's forearms in farewell.

"I will, friend, and thank you for your hospitality. I, we, won't soon forget it."

Dagur heads back into the inn, a sudden gust of wind slamming the door shut behind him. I stretch my hand out toward's Ticemius's nose. His nostrils flare as he takes in my scent, chocolate eyes assessing my every move. Slowly, he lowers his head, inch by inch, until his warm nose is almost touching my hand. Just as I reach out to stroke him, his large head darts forward, nipping at my gloved fingers. I snatch my hand back in surprise, and he snorts good-naturedly. If I didn't know better, I would swear that the horse was grinning cheekily.

I laugh. "I like him." I state, and Gabriella nods, only halfway paying attention. Being the better rider by far, I hop on first, and take the reigns. Gabriella follows, lightly wrapping an arm around my waist, while the other hangs at her side. She looks around, seeing the shabby buildings and harsh landscape, but not really taking it in. Her brow is furrowed delicately, and she's chewing on her lip.

"I'm sure everyone is okay." I say, placing a comforting hand on her leg. She nods, and sighs.

"I know. Just…Let us hurry." Without another word, she wraps both arms around my waist. I whip the reigns, and touch my heels to the horse's flanks. Ticemius whinnies, and sets off at a gallop, shod hooves kicking up tiny flurries of powdered snow. We dash out of Winterhold as if riding the snowstorm itself, the forest flashing by in a blur. I narrow my eyes against the freezing air, and mentally urge the steed on. He seems to sense the urgency of the situation, and picks up his pace even further, hot breath steaming in the air.

I try to concentrate on anything beside's Astrid's letter. Regardless of what I told Gabriella, I still can't quite shake the feeling that not everything is as it should be. Not that something is wrong, per say, but that an inevitable change has begun. It's an unmistakable feeling. I've had it before, namely in the week preceding my parent's deaths, and in the days before I had been sent to Helgen. It feels as if something has been set into motion, something that I'm powerless to change. Amaril's warning reverberates in my mind, and my stomach clenches. I grind my teeth, feeling more on edge by the second.

_I hope they're okay. _

By nightfall, we're forced to stop. Ticemius's sides are heaving, and his breath is coming in short gasps. Gabriella and I slide off his back. The dark elf walks around to face him, and gently lays her hand on his nose, murmuring soothingly.

I rummage around both our packs, and grab our bedrolls. I walk over to a rocky overhang, about seven feet high, and spread them out underneath. I stretch vigorously, cracking my back and yawning widely. I open my eyes, a bit dizzy, and run my hands through my hair. Too exhausted to make anything to eat, I sit down, a little unsteadily, and unbuckle my armor, piece-by-piece. Gabriella joins me, slipping out of her robes, and pulling over a long, white shirt. I step into a pair of ragged trousers, and crawl inside my bedroll. The soft fur on the inside brushes pleasantly against my icy skin. Gabriella starts to do the same, but before she does, she pushes her bedroll up next to mine. She slips inside, and I turn to face her. Our lips brush, and she smiles tiredly. Her garnet eyes close, just as my midnight ones do.

A bush rustles a yard and a half to my left. My eyes snap open, and I slip one of my daggers out of it's concealed pocket inside my bedroll. The bush rustles again, and I slowly inch my hand over to Gabriella's shoulder. The second my skin makes contact with hers, glowing crimson eyes fly open. I flick my eyes over to the bush, and she follows my gaze. She nods, every so slightly, and clenches her fists in preparation to use magic. The bush rustles a third time, and the tip of an iron arrow emerges from the branches, glinting in the moonlight.

In a single, fluid motion, Gabriella and I slither out of our bedrolls and face our attackers. A second later, a line of four bandit archers rise up as one, and loose their arrows. Reflexively, I step in front of Gabriella, and let the Thu'um flow out of me.

"**FUS!"** I shout, thunder cracking through the forest. The bandit's arrows splinter mid-flight, and the thugs themselves stagger as the shockwave strikes them. Gabriella looses a gout of flame, cooking a burly orc in his armor. I grip my dagger, and glide forward. Blood spurts as the black and red blade slips through a wood elf's throat like butter. He falls before he can even draw his blade.

The dark elf and I regroup, standing back-to-back as four more bandits appear, two at each side. They circle closer, trapping us against the overhang. Gabriella and I glance at each other grimly, then turn back around, ready for a brawl. Just as I inhale to shout again, a battle cry tears through the night. Startled, the bandits pause for a moment, and look around. Before either Gabriella or I can take advantage of their distraction, a slim, ebony blade sprouts from the chest of a matted Khajiit. He looks down, eyes wide with surprise. He gurgles once, and falls to the ground.

With the bandits scattered and confused, the small clearing launches into a frenzy of flashing blades, various elemental magics, and blood. Within seconds, the corpses of our attackers litter the ground around us. However, Gabriella and I only have eyes for our mysterious ally.

"I can't thank you enough, my friend." I say, peering at the man carefully. He's wearing a set of ebony armor, including a full helmet that obscures his features. He strides over to the body of bandit, and wipes his blade clean on the nord's fur armor. It whines as he slides it into it's sheathe. The man's shape, black as the void, barely looks at us. He turns around, and starts to head out of the clearing.

"Wait!" I call after him, my curiosity getting the better of me. "Who are you? At least let us offer you something to eat!"

Gabriella touches my arm. "Never mind, Daank. Let us just go back to b-" She starts to say, but cuts off. The man stops in his tracks, and turns around to face us.

"Daanik?" He asks, incredulously, lifting the gleaming helmet off of his head. "Is that you?"

I squint through the darkness, trying to better see the man's face. Gabriella flicks her hand, conjuring a magelight, and attaching it to a nearby tree. The mysterious man steps into it's harsh glare. His features finally become clear. He looks to be about fifteen years my elder. He has thick, close-cropped black hair, and pale skin. His eyes are a glinting copper, and he looks as if he hasn't shaved in a few days. A long, white scar stretches from his jaw up to his temple. Sudden recognition dawns on me, and my eyes widen in shock.

"Kastus?" I exclaim. "Is that you, old friend?" The man drops his helmet, a wide grin splitting his face. He strides towards me with his arms outstretched, and grabs me in a bear hug.

"Daanik! I haven't seen you since you were, what, eighteen years old?" I laugh as I return his embrace, still shocked and taken aback. "You've grown, mate!" He yells, stepping back, and looking up at my face. He's about two inches shorter than me.

"By Talos, it's been so long!" I exclaim, shaking my head in disbelief. "How have you been keeping? What have you been doing?"

He laughs again, and claps me on the back. "All in time, mate. First, let us sit down, make a fire, and have a meal together, just like old times!" He looks over at Gabriella, and winks at me. "And you can introduce me to your _lovely _friend." He walks over to the elf, and kneels in front of her, like a knight before his liege.

"My name, dear lady, is Kastus Buckington." He says, reaching out to grab her hand, and touching his lips to it's back.

Gabriella laughs, and shakes her head. "Well, now it is clear to me where Daanik obtained his attitude." She looks at me, eyes sparkling. "Very nice to meet you, Kastus. My name is Gabriella."

Kastus stands up, grinning. "It is good to meet you as well, lady Gabriella."

She nods, and glides away, vanishing into the shadows to slip into her Brotherhood robes. I pull on a rough blue shirt, while the breton removes his heavy armor, revealing a leather tunic and breeches underneath. Just as he sits down across from me, Gabriella returns with a bundle of firewood in her arms.

"Ah! Splendid." Kastus says, immediately assembling it into a base of sorts on the ground. I place a few stones around it, completing the fire pit, while the breton rummages around in his pack for a tinderbox.

"Don't, worry about it, man." I say, and he turns around, as Gabriella lights the dry branches with a flick of her wrist.

"Alright then, almost done." He says, reaching for a thin, wide rock, and carefully placing it over the fire. "There. Now we'll just let that heat up, and then we shall make a bit of dinner, eh?"

My stomach growls eagerly, causing both Kastus and Gabriella to laugh. The latter scoots around the fire, closer to me. "Kastus, I am afraid that I cannot keep my curiosity in check." She begins, "How did you come to meet Daanik?"

Kastus grins widely. I groan. "Oh, now you've done it. The old man has a passion for speech."

Kastus laughs heartily. "He's been calling me old ever since we met. And I was but nineteen years of age then!" Gabriella smiles, prompting him to begin his story. "Now, I met Daanik when he was but seven. I was in Whiterun, working with the Companions for a time." He grimaces. "Very honorable people, but a bit dry, if you catch my meaning. Anyway, I had just returned to the city after a long giant hunt, and was quite ready for food and rest. So I headed up to the Bannered Mare. Great inn, very hospitable. Gods, it's been ages since I've seen ol' Hulda. I wonder if she's still selling that spiced wine…"

Gabriella looks at me, smiling discreetly at the man's rambling story. I grin back at her. _Gods, I've missed this man. _Kastus had taken me in just a year after the death of my parents, and had raised me for over a decade. He had been the one who taught me how to fight, how to sneak, and how to hunt. Hunting had always been my favorite activity with him. _I could pin a fly to a tree twenty yards away without killing it. _I lament the fact that I hadn't been able to do much stalking lately.

We turn our attention back to the flamboyant Breton. "Anyway, I was headed back to Jorrvaskr with a full stomach and pleasant warmth throughout my body, when I feel a light tug in my back pocket. I turn around, to see a young buy, no older than seven, holding my coin purse." He guffaws the memory. "He was small, with eyes as wide as the full moon, with a shock of long, scraggly red hair. I reached out to grab the pouch back, but the boy held it out of my reach, and starting running! In fact, it was quite the chase, with the little man slithering in and out of the shadows like a born thief." I chuckle at the fond memory, and Kastus continues. "I finally caught him after about an hour, and dragged him kicking and screaming up to Jorrvaskr. I plopped him down in front of Skjor, and told him the entire story. He just shrugged, and told me to give him the guards. _'No, you misunderstand.' _I said. _'I want you to let me train the little man!'_"

"And I was terrified!" I interject, laughing myself. "I thought that "train" was a code word for "beat", or something."

"Skjor agreed, but when we looked down, Daanik was nowhere to be seen!" The breton continues, "We looked around, to see him climbing up a wooden beam to get to a bow that was hanging on a plaque. It was a gorgeous weapon, elven make, I believe, and it was easily taller than the boy himself. When he finally got it down, he pointed at Skjor, and pretended to loose an arrow at him." I start laughing hard at the memory, and Gabriella giggles at the image. "That was one of the few times I ever saw Skjor laugh, incidentally." Kastus says, smirking. "And that is how I met the good man sitting across from me."

I smile lights up my face, as I remember all my fond memories of Jorrvaskr. Getting into trouble with Vilkas and Farkas, long talks with Kodlak, old Tilma's cooking…_I miss the good old days. _

"So." Kastus says, directing his words at me. "How have you been, my friend?" He asks, eyes alight with curiosity.

I take a deep breath, and look over at Gabriella. She smirks. "Well…" I begin. "I'm the Dragonborn now."

Kastus's expression is priceless.

**A/N: In case some people didn't see the note at the end of my last chapter, I'm thinking about ending this story in a couple of chapters. I'm not sure yet though. Either way, there'll be a sequel. Don't forget to review! Reviews motivate me ;)**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: See, that was reasonably fast, wasn't it? So, I'm sorry if the timing in this story has been off. I added time-indication breaks in the word processor itself, but they seem to disappear when I upload anything. So I added some here. Oh also, thank you all the favorites, reviews, everything! They make me beyond happy. Ecstatic! Also, I believe this story has almost 6,000 hits now. Which I'm sure is pretty trivial to many people, but to me, that's unbelievable :) So, thank you, and enjoy!**

CHAPTER 16

Too shaken by the bandit attack to sleep, Gabriella, Kastus, and I talk until the sun begins to rise. As the first rays of dawn crest the horizon, Gabriella throws me an anxious look, reminding me of our urgency.

"Kastus…" I begin, not sure what to say. _I can't very well tell him that I'm in the Brotherhood now, can I? He's too honorable to be alright with it. Then again, maybe he won't ask. Or care, as a matter of fact. Oh well. Might as well give it a shot._

"Yea, mate?" He asks, nibbling on a piece of cooked beef.

"Gabriella and I have some urgent business that we need to attend to. I'm sorry, I don't mean to blow you off, but…" I trail off, shrugging helplessly. The breton shakes his head.

"No, no, I understand. In fact, I've got a few things to deal with myself. I was actually headed to Solitude, when I heard your horse stomping and whinnying about like a maniac."

"Shit!" I yell, as I remember Ticemius. "I forgot all about that damned animal, is he alright?"

Kastus grins, and nods. "Yea, he's fine. I tied him to a tree, about a hundred yards that way." He jerks his thumb over his right shoulder. "Just as I was finished tying him up, I heard a thunderous noise, and rushed towards it. Which, in retrospect, I realize was your thu'um." He shakes his head in disbelief. "Little Daanik Sun-strider, the one-and-only Dragonborn." He mutters to himself. "Next thing you know, the Moot will elect Brynjolf as High King, and Kodlak Whitemane will become a priestess of Dibella."

I burst out laughing in a combination of extreme amusement and slight disgust at the breton's second comment.

I get up, and walk a few paces into the dense forest, where I change into my armor. Once I'm done, I jog in the direction that Kastus had indicated when he had been talking about Ticemius. After no more than a few seconds, the stallion is within sight. Thankfully, the bandits had not noticed him, and he seems unharmed. He raises his head at my approach. I walk up to him, and stroke his neck. He nickers softly.

"Come on, boy." I murmur, untying him and leading him towards our makeshift camp. "I know you're still tired, but we have to make it to the sanctuary today." He tosses his head in disapproval, and stares at me with one baleful brown eye. "Oh, don't worry, we've only got a fourth of the way to go. Not nearly as far as you ran yesterday." The stallion snorts in reluctant assent, and follows me into the small clearing.

Gabriella is already packed and waiting, talking amiably with Kastus, and chewing on half of a loaf of bread. I leave the horse standing near the edge of the clearing, while I roll up my bedroll, and stuff it, along with my bed clothes, into my pack. I heft the leather bag, along with the dark elf's, and hang them off the horse's saddle.

Seeing that the preparations are complete, Gabriella and Kastus stand up. I embrace the older man, and he claps me on the back, warmly. "Don't be such a stranger, mate." He scolds. "You know how to write, eh?"

"You haven't had a permanent address!" I protest, laughing, "Not since you tried one too many times to bed Aela, and ran out of Jorrvaskr with an arrow in your arse, and an angry huntress at your heels!" He guffaws at the memory, slapping his thighs.

"Aye, but I was successful in the end, wasn't I?" He says, spreading his arms wide. I grin, tilting my head to the side, and nodding.

"That you were, that you were. But you were also homeless."

Kastus rolls his eyes. "But a minor inconvenience, for one such as I." He pauses for a minute, then becomes a bit more somber. "I mean it though, send me a letter or two. I'll be stationed in Solitude for a while, and if that changes, I'll mention it."

"Stationed?" I ask, confused.

"Oh that's right, I meant to tell you. I'm in the legion now, mate!" He exclaims, proudly.

A few seconds pass. "Um…" I reply, "Aren't you a bit old? I mean, to be a soldier?" Kastus aims a punch at my arm.

"You know I'm only thirty-seven, right? I'm twelve years older than you, boy, not forty!"

I smirk. "Then why do you still call me boy, old man?"

Kastus turns to Gabriella. "How _do _you manage to deal with this nonsense, lady Gabriella?"

She shakes her head ruefully. "Quite honestly, I do not know myself." The breton grins.

"Farewell, old friend." He says, stepping forward and grabbing my shoulders.

"And you. I'll visit soon." I promise, in all seriousness, and clasp his forearm.

Without further ado, Kastus picks up the pack containing his armor, and strides into the forest, humming a jaunty tune as he walks. I stare after him, a bit regretful that I couldn't accompany the breton. _I miss that man._

"I like him." Gabriella intones, as I pull myself up onto Ticemius's back. She follows suit, climbing much more gracefully into the saddle than I. "You two are very much alike."

I smile ruefully, and nod. "He raised me. He taught me how to fight, how to hunt, how to read and write…" I trail off, remembering earlier times. Gabriella notices my unhappiness, and wraps her arms around my waist.

"We will visit him on our next contract."

I smile, and turn around to kiss her. She smiles back. "But for now, we must hurry."

In answer, I touch my heels to Ticemius's sides, and flick the reigns. The stallion whinnies, and races through the trees like an arrow shot by…_Well, by me. _I smile, the ominous situation seeming to shrink a bit, as a chorus of birds hail the rising sun.

* * *

We reach the sanctuary by late afternoon. Storm clouds darken the sky, and thunder rumbles ominously in the distance. Gabriella glances up at the sound, and bites her lip. The apprehension that had dispersed with Kastus's arrival had returned in full force in the wake of his departure. Now, the dunmer and I both slide off Ticemius's back. I hastily tether the horse to a tree outside the sanctuary, with a rope long enough for him to take shelter, in the small cave concealing the black door, if need be.

We loosen our packs from the saddle as quickly as we can, and jog over to the entrance to our home. I place my hands on the icy metal, and the familiar, piercing voice echoes in my skull.

_What, is the music-_

"Silence!" I bark, before the raspy voice can conclude it's question. The slab of cold steel swings open, and Gabriella and I sprint down the stairs. Astrid is already waiting, pacing nervously in the small room at the bottom of the entryway. She turns at the sound of our footsteps.

"Ah, good. You're back." She says, heaving a relieved sigh. Her skin is pale, and there are dark circles under her eyes. She looks as if she hasn't slept a wink since she sent the letter.

"We traveled as fast as we could." Gabriella answers. "Is everything alright?" She asks, unnecessarily.

Astrid leans on her desk tiredly, and rubs her eyes. "It's…it's Cicero." She begins, stumbling over the words at first, as she regains her voice. "It was so sudden, out of the blue. One minute he was leaving, to fetch some flowers for the Night Mother's shrine, or something, and the next, he's running back down the stairs, jabbering wildly and swinging a sword at me."

My jaw drops, and Gabriella gasps in shock. "Cicero attacked you?" I exclaim, incredulously. The blonde woman nods, tiredly.

"Yes. Arnbjorn flew into a rage, and chased him out of the sanctuary, leaving me and Babette alone here. No one else had returned from their contracts yet, and I feared we were vulnerable. So I sent out three letters, one to Nazir, one for the pair of you, and another to Veezara." She sighs again, with a bit of relief, this time. "Nazir returned just hours ago, but three people is barely safer than two."

I frown. "Three? Arnbjorn hasn't returned?" Astrid shakes her head desperately.

"No, he hasn't. And I couldn't abandon the sanctuary to search for him! I fear that Cicero may have gotten the best of him." She squeezes her eyes shut, and breathes in deeply. However, when she opens her eyes, they are no longer desperate, but green pools of determination. A testament to her strength. "Daanik, I want you to go after them. Find Arnbjorn, and make sure he's alright. Locating Cicero is secondary, but if the opportunity presents itself…well, don't hesitate to add a jester to Sithis's court."

Just as I nod in assent, Gabriella interrupts. "I want to go with him. He may need some help, an extra pair of hands could not hurt."

Astrid is already shaking her head, however. "No. I need you here, to help guard the sanctuary." The dark elf begins to protest, but the blonde woman holds up a hand, cutting her off. "No. I'm aware that the likelihood of an attack is slim, but we can't take any chances." She straightens regally, all worry and exhaustion gone. She eyes us each with a fierce, proud glare. "We are the last Dark Brotherhood sanctuary in all of Tamriel. The last vestiges of a mighty organization, one that was respected and feared throughout the land. We cannot, under any circumstances, be allowed to fall."

Gabriella nods, albeit grudgingly, while I stay silent. "Get something to eat, and then leave as soon as you can." Astrid orders, and I nod, accepting her words. "Good." She says, haughtily, and stalks off.

I sigh, pushing down the anger threatening to rise up in my stomach. _She's only acting this way to distract herself. What would I do if Gabriella were missing? _Bile rises in my throat, and I crush that thought with all that I am.

"Come." Gabriella murmurs, taking my hand in her small, soft one. "Let us go find Babette, and see if she has any leftovers from cooking dinner." I smile at the thought. Ironically enough, the vampire was an outstanding cook, even though she hadn't tasted her own creations in three hundred years.

The second the dunmer and I set foot in the kitchen, Babette jumps up from her chair, and runs in our direction. She hugs the Gabriella tightly around the legs, eyes squeezed shut. In that moment, she looks very much like a ten year old.

The child-vampire bids us to sit down, and we do, the cold stone familiar against our bodies. Gabriella props her elbows up on the rough table, and leans her head in her hands. I watch Babette, as she glides around the kitchen area, fussing over a meal. She is no longer a frightened child, but a caring mother. It was strange, to see such a reversal of roles. The young one, caring for the adults.

I'm roused from my thoughts, when Gabriella heaves a deep, shuddering sigh, and buries her face in her hands. I lay a hand on her arm, concerned.

"Are you alright, love?" I ask, softly. She looks up, a tired smile stretching across her face.

"Yes. Yes, I am." Her eyes, deep, ruby pools, are filled with an utter relief. "I am worried about Arnbjorn, but I am infinitely glad that everyone else seems to be alright. That the sanctuary is still here." She pauses, and takes another deep breath. "I was afraid that I would come home, to find my family gone. Again." She says, smiling sadly.

I grasp her hand tightly, deciding that now is not the time for questions of the past.

Babette sets two steaming bowls of beef stew, and a crunchy loaf of bread, in front of us. I smile gratefully at her, eyes conveying my thanks. She smiles back, understanding written across her features. Both Gabriella and I dig into the food, our appetites growing with every bite. When we finish, we stand up wordlessly, and walk into the sanctuary's main hall, side by side.

"I love you." She whispers, soft brow furrowed, and sunset eyes worried. I clasp her hands in mine. I kiss her forehead, and smile, doing my best to reassure the beautiful woman in front of me.

"And I, you." The waterfall rushes in the background.

"Be careful." She whispers, reaching up to cup my cheek.

"I will be." I reply, kissing her hand. "I promise." I press my lips to hers, one last time.

I don't say goodbye. I offer one last, comforting smile, then stride towards the stairs. Astrid is waiting for me in the anteroom.

"According to Cicero's rantings, he was headed to somewhere near Dawnstar. You'll need speed." She states, rather bluntly. "Take my horse, Shadowmere." She begins to walk up the final flight of stairs.

"But I already have a horse!" I protest, jogging after her. She laughs.

"Not like this one, you don't."

Confused, I follow her outside. She doesn't go far, however, and stops at the edge of the black pool just outside the sanctuary entrance. I begin to ask her what in Oblivion we're doing, but she holds up a finger to silence me. I cross my arms, and raise an eyebrow, waiting. The blonde woman murmurs something unintelligible. With her whisper, a ripple seems to flow, following the direction of her words. Then the murky water begins to twitch, and then bubble, and finally churn violently. I step back, more than a bit concerned, but Astrid doesn't move.

And then the surface of the water breaks. A massive horse, as black as the void itself, rises from the depths of the pool. It snorts thunderously, and rears up on it's hind legs, whinnying with the sound of hundreds of beasts. It's hooves, twice the breadth of my hand, slam into the ground with bone-crunching force. Finally, the waters calm, and the animal stares at me with glowing red eyes, like pools of blood in the night.

"This is Shadowmere." Astrid states, quite unnecessarily, walking up to the imposing creature, and stroking it's neck.

"Uh huh…" I manage to force out. The creature is easily a foot taller than Ticemius, who was no small horse himself.

Astrid chuckles at my expression. "Don't worry, he's completely harmless. As long as you're a member of the Brotherhood, that is." The stallion snorts in agreement, and nudges the woman's hand with his head. She smiles. "Make haste, Daanik."

Recovering from my initial shock, I cautiously approach the animal. He watches me, carefully, not moving a muscle. I inch my way past his head, and down his side, without incident. Finally, I place my foot in one of the stirrups, and wince, expecting a kick. But the horse doesn't move. In fact, he remains deathly still. Not even his tail twitches. I steel myself, and leap onto his back. When the beast doesn't attempt to throw me off, I smile, and pat his neck affectionately. He nickers quietly.

"See? That wasn't so bad, now was it?" Astrid drawls. I roll my eyes at her. "Now go. Find my husband. And if you can, send Cicero to Oblivion in a hand basket." I grin at her words, recognizing the matron that I remember. I whip the reigns, and Shadowmere bounds forward, infinitely faster and more graceful than anyhorse I'd ever ridden before. The icy air streaks past me, banishing all thoughts from my mind, but of the task at hand.

* * *

I don't stop to rest, and Shadowmere doesn't force me too. With his immense speed, the black stallion carries me from Falkreath to Dawnstar in no less than ten hours, without respite. When we do reach the lonely city, the horse isn't even breathing hard. Too tired to be astonished, I leap off the animal, and jog up to a nearby guard.

"Hail." I yell, attracting his attention. He stands up straight, and offers me a salute.

"Whatever you need, Dragonborn, just say the word."

I give him a nod of thanks, then continue, "Did you see a man, dressed as a jester run through here in the past few days?" The man looks startled, and shakes his head. I sigh. "Well, have there been any reports of a werewolf in the area?" The guard perks up at this, remembering something.

"I did hear howls to the Northeast myself. Near that old, black door, in fact."

_Old, black door…_I grimace, as I recognize the guard's words. _He went to the old Dawnstar sanctuary. _I vaguely remember Festus giving me a history lesson on the Brotherhood's activity in Skyrim once. In it, he had mentioned that there had been three ancient sanctuaries in the northland: One in Falkreath, on the border of Cyrodiil, one near Markarth, bordering Hammerfell and High Rock, and one in Dawnstar. The Dawnstar sanctuary was the oldest one in Tamriel. The first Dark Brotherhood members, after splitting from the Morag Tong of Morrowind, had hidden there. Over time, as they remained undetected, they began to spread, first across Skyrim, then into the Imperial Province. And from there, the organization had had access to all of Tamriel.

"Where is this black door, exactly?" I ask the guard, unrolling my map, and handing it to him. He looks it for a moment, and then rummages around in his pocket. With a pleased grunt, he extracts a stick of charcoal, and draws a small "X" on the map.

"Right there." He states, with a touch of pride. "To the north, beyond the city, and then east for a bit, along the ice fields."

I thank the man for his help, and clamber back up onto Shadowmere's back. _I bet I look like a gods damned Daedric prince, what with my red and black armor and demon horse. _We gallop through the city, the pitch-black animal's hooves thundering along the wooden docks.

We make it to the black door in a matter of minutes. I leap off the horse, and sprint the rest of the way towards the alcove in which it seems to be hidden. Just as I reach it, I hear a hacking cough. As I round the corner, I see Arnbjorn, leaning against a rock with a hand against his mouth. He takes it away, and I notice blood on his fingers. He looks over at me, and grins. His teeth are also stained. I wonder briefly whether it's his blood, or the jesters.

"Lamb hock! Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes." I can't help but smile at his slightly disconcerting description of me. The expression is wiped off my face however, as he coughs again, and I see that his side is stained red. "Little jester's good with that butter knife." He grunts. "But I gave as good as I got." His grin turns hungry, and his eyes flash with an orange light. "Pretty sure I severed an artery." The werewolf licks his lips.

I kneel down next to him, and give him a questioning look. When he indicates his approval, I peel away his armor, inspecting the wound. It's short, but deep, and seems to have punctured a lung. _But, I __mean, with Arnbjorn's werewolf healing capacity, and a good health potion, he should be fine. In fact, he'd most likely be healed by the time he got back to the sanctuary._

"You'll be alright. Cicero punctured a lung, but if you take this…" I say, pulling a good-quality healing potion out of my pack, "You'll be right as rain in a few hours." The massive nord nods his thanks, and downs the potion in one swig.

"Ah. Thank you." He rumbles, his voice much stronger already. A bit of color returns to his face.

"Of course. Are you well enough to ride?" I inquire.

"Yea. It won't be a fucking cake walk, but I can handle it." He answers, pushing himself upright, leaning against the rock he was sitting against.

"Good. Take Shadowmere. Astrid will be glad to see that you're alright." I indicate the horse, then look over to the ancient, foreboding door. "I'm going to go after Cicero." I hand him a loaf of bread and some meat out of my pack, along with a second potion. _The man hasn't eaten in days. Well, besides the jester. But then again, I hear that clowns make your stomach feel…funny. Hehehe. I'm hopeless._

Arnbjorn grins, and claps me on the back so hard that I nearly stumble. "Good man! Tear that little clown a new one for me." With that, he limps over to Shadowmere, and heaves himself onto his back. The animal snorts in what seems to be farewell, and without a second's thought, whips around, and gallops back towards Falkreath.

I watch them leave, until they're out of sight, and the sound of the demon horse's hooves fades out of earshot. I turn around, and slowly walk up to the black door. I study it, noting the differences between it and the one in Falkreath. This one looks weathered and beaten, pummeled by icy winds for over a thousand years. It also lacks the red glow of the current sanctuary. It looks…dead. I touch the cold metal, imagining the first members of the Brotherhood, the first Listener, the first Keeper. _They chiseled this sanctuary out of the bare stone, and from here, grew an empire of terror that spanned the entire continent of Tamriel. And now…_

I jerk in surprise, as the familiar voice screeches across the planes of my mind. _What, is life's greatest illusion?_

I ponder the question. What is life's greatest illusion? Freedom? _In reality, are we guided by the hands of the Gods? _ _No. The Dark Brotherhood has never concerned itself with the Gods. We serve Sithis and his matron, and no other. _I continue to think, chewing on my lip. Love? _No, that can't be. Love isn't an illusion. I've tasted it. _I smile slightly, at the thought of my elf, with her waves of glimmering hair, and eyes like pools of liquid flame. _And what does the Brotherhood care of love, anyway?_

I rack my mind. _What does the Dark Brotherhood stand for? Naturally, killing. _I think back to the beggar I'd killed recently, and Gaius Maro, and all the others. So many others. _The baby…_

My mind flashes through the deaths I've witnessed, whether I'd brought them about or not, and rests on the murder of my parents. They way they had been torn from me, and the unfairness of it all. I had never thought of it like that before now. The world had taken my family, and made me into what I am. A hunter, a fighter, and a relentless murderer. I slam my fist against the icy metal. The world had taken my innocence before it's time, and never before had I felt so unrelentingly furious about that fact. I think back to how my time in the Brotherhood had started, with poor Aventus Aretino. His mother dead, he abused, and forgotten. _ Just like me_. _An innocent child, already so familiar with death. _

_Innocent. _

The word rings in my mind like a bell, clear and loud. _But Aventus hadn't been innocent, not really. He was, albeit indirectly, responsible for the death of another human being. And I was far from innocence myself. _I remember a thought that I'd had, months ago. I had been wondering why. Why was Gabriella a killer?A rush of clarity sweeps through my thoughts, as I come to a new conclusion. _Because she's not innocent. She never was. None of us are. Everyone has the potential to be a killer, if they are pushed just far enough. _I let out a sigh. _So I was right, all along. Assassins truly are made, not born. But only in the way that a king is made. If the circumstances are right, anyone can be crowned. Just as if one is manipulated, forced to the edge, then one gains the ability to kill._

I have my answer.

"Innocence." I call out, my voice echoing, loud and clear. There is a pause, and I begin to doubt my answer. But then I feel the voice, the very presence of the dread lord himself, grating on my mortal consciousness.

_Welcome, home. _

I shudder. I breathe in deeply, and then exhale, watching as my breath nearly crystallizes in the freezing air. I wrap one hand around one of my daggers, and the other around the slick door handle. And I push. And I brace myself, to kill a friend.

**A/N: Don't forget to leave a review, let me know what you think. Even just a couple words is appreciated :) I'm going to be gone for a couple of days, but the next chapter should be up by...Wednesday. Also, I know it's hard to tell, but the new story cover is the view from Daanik's perch. Thanks for reading :D**


	17. Chapter 17

**I'm back! I'm sunburnt, battered, and slightly injured in other assorted ways, but I'm back :) I finished this the second I could get to my laptop. I really hope you like it. By the way, thank you for the wonderful reviews that all of you left. It was awesome to come back to those. So thanks ;) Enjoy!**

CHAPTER 17

A rush of cold air bites into my skin as I heave the door open. The ancient hinges screech, and the wind howls along the barren opening in the rock face. I slip inside as quickly as I can, and pull the heavy slab closed behind me. It shuts with a muffled _thump_, cutting off the whistling sound from outside. The absence leaves the rocky hall very quiet, and very still.

I lower myself into a crouch, and draw my other dagger. I creep along the damp ground, cautiously scanning the areas in front of me. Cicero is an extremely accomplished assassin; I wouldn't be doing myself any favors if I were to underestimate him. _He could be hiding in any shadow, behind any stray object. He could be behind me, or above me, and I will not know it, unless I keep my eyes open. _The knowledge sets my teeth on edge. I stalk forward, sharp eyes catching ever hint of movement, every twitch of my own shadow.

I sneak down a flight of stairs, and enter a dilapidated room. I sweep it, my piercing gaze taking in every detail. It contains what seems to be an extremely old alchemy laboratory. Behind it lies what used to be a garden. Apparently, it had become terribly overgrown, but had died soon after. Now, the only remnants that remain are brittle twigs, and mounds of earth. _It's very similar to the alchemy corner in Falkreath. _I observe.

Suddenly, a high, desperate voice echoes through the sanctuary. "Listener?" A pause, filled with what sounds like gasping. Then, "Is that you?" The voice is unmistakably Cicero's. It wavers and cracks, as if he is in great pain.

_Looks like Arnbjorn did get a nibble. _I think, dryly. I don't respond to the jester, as I continue down another flight of steps. After a few seconds, Cicero speaks again.

"Ooooh, it is you! The Listener has come to save poor Cicero from the angry wolf!" The madman cackles gleefully, then coughs violently. There is a lengthy pause, and I wonder if the jester hadn't maybe died from his injuries. But then he pipes up again.

"Cicero tried so hard, you see. He tried to tell the pretender, he really did!" I ignore his words, forcing my way through the stony halls. Suddenly, a shape flickers not three paces ahead of me. A pale figure, a man, materializes on a chair, sitting with his elbows resting on his knees. The apparition is clearly wearing Dark Brotherhood armor. It move towards it, inch by inch, trying to sneak past it. Suddenly, it raises it's head, and stares directly at me.

"What are you doing in our sanctuary?" The form hisses, drawing a wicked dagger from a sheathe on it's belt. Without another word, it rushes me, aiming for my throat. I crouch even lower, reflexively, ducking under the blow. The figure staggers, and I move fluidly, slicing through it's knees. My blade meets resistance at first, as if it were striking flesh, but I pierce the skin, it is as if I'd swung the dagger through thin air. The shape drops, and I twist around, blade flashing towards it's back. As my dagger connects with what would have been the ghost's spine, a soft whistling fills the room. The apparition drops to the ground, but before I can examine it, it is blown away, like dust in the wind.

I blink, a bit taken aback by the encounter. Cicero's voice screeches through the silence, breaking it as quickly as it had come about. "Ah…yes. Cicero is so very sorry. He thought he killed all the guardians already. But, apparently not."

I continue on, not saying a word in response. After a minute, however, the jester speaks again, of his own accord. "Why is the Listener so quiet?" He asks, his voice forlorn, and a bit afraid. I grit my teeth, and sigh, forcing myself to keep quiet. I had always had a bit of a soft spot for the childish Keeper, with his perpetual amusement, and his dancing, and even his singing from time to time. The family was often in a state of perpetual stress, owing to the nature of our line of work. But Cicero would always make some remark, or sing a song, and break the silence. No matter what the others said about him, he made them smile.

The jester's voice quivers through the cold air. "Listener? What is wrong?" A short pause, and then, "Is the Listener alright?" I stifle a bitter laugh, and continue on.

The ancient sanctuary is quiet for a long time now, as I fight my way through two more of the ghostly assassins. I begin to step even more carefully, as I notice a pair of barely visible stone plates set into the ground, one a few feet in front of the other. I sweep my gaze around the area, meticulously noting any irregularities in the rocky walls and ceiling around the two plates. Sure enough, after a good minute of searching, I notice four tiny, barely visible openings just in front of each of the pressure plates. I step around them as delicately as possible, eyeing the holes the entire time. When no poison darts bury themselves in my body, I sigh in relief, and continue my search for the fool of hearts.

"Are you going to kill me?" Cicero asks. I start at his voice. I realize that this is the first time that he has ever spoken to me directly. I'd never heard him speak like that to anyone else before, save the Night Mother herself. I shiver, as a strange feeling flows through me. It feels like…aggravated unease. _This is wrong._

When I don't answer, the jester lets loose a stream of babbling speech that echoes off the walls, making it nearly indecipherable. His tone is fearful, and desperate, as if he's trying to make me understand something. I feel a pang for the poor madman. _He's trying to explain himself. Like a child, wanting to avoid a beating. _The only words I catch are, "sword", "attack", and "show".

I press on, cutting down the last remaining sanctuary guardians as they spring up in my path. I narrowly avoid being impaled by a swinging wall trap, but one of the spikes on the end catches me in the shoulder. I grunt, as I feel the rusty metal tear through my skin. I straighten up a bit to examine the wound. It isn't deep, but I take a sip of a healing potion anyway, to ward off any potential infections. I tuck the vial back into my pocket, and realize that Cicero's voice has stopped. I crouch down, and take out a lone sanctuary guardian with my bow. The lithe apparition, most likely a woman, disappears in a puff of smoke. I look beyond her disintegrating form, and see a large set of black, double doors. A sinking feeling settles in my stomach, as I brace myself for the end. The jester's voice cracks through the sanctuary, with the sound of a judgement passed by the gods themselves. It is laden with hurt and betrayal, tempered by bitter acceptance and anger.

"And now…the grand finale."

I kick the door open, and rush through them, daggers raised. I look around wildly, trying to find the jester as fast as I can. I hear a strangled cough, and see the fool laying on the ground in a pool of his own blood. I expect him to say something, to plead for mercy, to scream for help, like so many of my other victims. Or at least for him to hurl curses and other insults at me. _I wish he would. Talos knows I deserve it. _He remains silent, however. His body is drenched in sweat, and I can see a vicious bite mark in his side. His eyes, however, are extremely focused. They're not half-lidded, or blurred, as one would expect of someone in his condition. Cicero's amber gaze bores into me as I approach him, readying myself to take his life.

Just as I reach striking distance, the man closes his eyes, and breathes a plea in my direction. His tone is that of an offended child, begging to be taken seriously. "Will the Listener please, please, _please_ try to tell the pretender the truth?"

My blade halts inches from his throat. _What? _I stop, confused. _I thought Cicero just wanted to kill Astrid. I mean, in his eyes, she was trying to usurp the Unholy Matron. That's what I assumed, anyways._

"What do you mean, the truth?" I ask, careful not to move the dagger away from the madman. He looks just as confused as I do, however, as he fixes me with a startled gaze.

"Did the Listener not hear what dear Cicero explained?" He asks, shocked.

"No, I didn't." I reply, no more enlightened than I was five seconds ago. "What are you talking about?"

The jester raises a skeptical eyebrow, as if he doesn't quite believe me. "Well, to reiterate, Cicero said that while he was out, he discovered something." He stops explaining, and looks at me expectantly, as if waiting for me to finish his story.

"I really didn't hear you, Keeper." I sigh, in exasperation. _It's so strange how we just shifts moods like that. One minute he's steeling himself for death, and the next, he's being condescending._

Cicero snorts, and continues, "Well, dear, sweet Cicero came across a group of men. Large, burly men, dressed in blue armor with funny skirts on them!" He giggles, and I recognize that he probably means a Stormcloak patrol team. I motion for him to continue, and he does, without any derisive sounds this time. "They were hiding behind a tree, like clumsy bears, spying on the sanctuary." At the word "spying", the jester brings his hands up to his right eye, and pretends that he's looking through a telescope, then looks back at me, and nods seriously.

"One of the men, a small one, ran away, very fast. Cicero tried to chase him, but the big ones stopped him. Sweet Cicero killed them both, yes he did, but failed to find the fast one." He shakes his head morosely. "He brought back the sword for Astrid to see, to prove that there were people trying to attack us! The pretender does not like poor Cicero, and he assumed that she had not told the Listener what Cicero had said, and that she had sent you to kill poor Cicero."

I take a second to work through the jester's confusing use of pronouns, but when I do realize the implications of his story, I nearly smack myself in the face. Suddenly, someone taps me on the shoulder. I whirl around in a panic, daggers flashing.

"Oi!" Amaril yells, as he jumps back to avoid being disemboweled.

"_What _are you doing here?" I snarl, moving one dagger back to Cicero's throat, while still facing the elf.

"Erm…" I hear from behind me. The jester clears his throat. "Who is the Listener talking to?"

I turn my head, confused. Then I remember that Amaril is indeed a figment of my imagination, and not a tangible mer.

"Uhh…nothing. No one." I mutter, removing the dagger from the jester's neck. "Stay here." I stand up, and walk backwards out the door, facing the Keeper at all times.

Cicero nods in assent, but comments, "Do hurry, dear Listener. Poor, poor Cicero isn't getting more alive." He punctuates the statement with a hacking cough. He does his best to cover his mouth, but when he moves his hand away, I see red.

I hurry out the doors, and slam them shut. I lean against the sturdy wood, and exhale deeply. Amaril is already ahead of me, humming merrily. He turns on his heels to face me, waiting patiently until I regain my composure. I glare up at his angular face. He smiles back.

"What?" I growl, the stress of the situation aggravating me. I cross my arms, and continue my glare.

"Well…" The elf begins, "You're under a lot of pressure right now." He gives me the most annoying, understanding look. Like that of a parent to an angry child. "You already didn't want to kill Cicero, but you wanted to keep your family safe. But now that there's a reason to not kill one of your brothers, you're even more conflicted." He throws his hands up in the air, in an example of exasperation. "You don't know what's true and what isn't!"

"And I suppose you do?" I shoot back, shifting my head skeptically. "Because if you're me, and I don't know, then neither do you."

The elf shakes his head. "No, no, no, I was just trying to make it simple for you. You _do _know, I just thought it would be easier to keep us as two separate people for the purposes of this conversation. Either way, you know very well what the right decision is." He explains, leaning against the wall with his hands behind his head. "I'm just hear to help you along the way. So!" He pushes himself off the wall with a flourish, and strides towards me. "What do you know?"

I sigh, as I do so often when debating with myself, and concentrate. "Well, I honestly don't believe that Cicero would harm the Brotherhood in any way." I begin, then continue. "He knows that killing Astrid would throw the family into turmoil, and he wouldn't want that."

Amaril nods. "That's true. Continue."

I bite my bottom lip, thinking. "Also, I'm not sure how much I trust Astrid's judgement in a matter like this. She hates Cicero. If he did come at her, waving a sword, then the last thing she'd do is ask questions."

The elf grins, golden eyes flashing. "Good. You're almost there. Come on, try to get one more reason that'll prove the man's story."

I try to think of something, but I can't. I grunt, and shake my head. "There's nothing else." I sigh, tired and annoyed. "This situation is barely any clearer to me than it was before."

Amaril shakes his head, shoulder-length hair whipping side to side. "Nope. There's one more thing, one item you haven't considered yet." I stare at him blankly, and he rolls his eyes. "Fine. I'll tell you." He holds his hands about four feet apart. "It's about this long, very pointy, and rhymes with the word "sword"."

"What does the sword he showed Astrid have anything to do with it?" I ask, confusion written across my face. "I mean, I kind of understand her reaction. If a madman was running at me, brandishing his weapon and babbling…" _Fuck. _I trail off, as a realization hits me. I groan, and bring my hands to my face, pushing off my hood in the process.

Amaril laughs, high and short. "There we go."

I groan again. "Shit. Cicero fights with an ebony dagger, not a sword." My words are slightly muffled by my hands, which I remove. I pull my hood back over my head. "He's far too small to use a blade of that size. He'd never be able to fight effectively with it, let alone take on an experienced assassin like Astrid."

The tall elf nods, a look of satisfaction in his eyes. "There you are." He states, calmly. "Now, go make the right decision. Save a life. Or don't. It's all relative." He pauses for a moment, and then adds, "Make sure you do what you think is right. This is not the time to follow orders."

I nod, and rub my eyes, suddenly feeling as if I'd run from Riften to Solitude. My bones ache, and my head swims. I open my mouth to thank Amaril, but when I look up, the elf is gone. I look around, confused, and almost lonely. After I convince myself that he is no longer in the hallway, I sigh, and sheathe my daggers. I turn around, and shove open the door to where Cicero is lying.

The jester perks up as I enter the room, but I can tell he's lost much of his strength. "What did the Listener decide?" He asks, guardedly. In answer, I pull out my best quality healing potion, and kneel down next to him.

"Drink this." I murmur, holding it out to him. Cicero looks at me, eyes open wide. He doesn't ask again, however, and downs the entire potion in one go. Immediately, the blood stops flowing form his wound, and fresh skin knits across the opening. Color returns to the jester's lips, and he stops sweating.

The fool of hearts tosses the empty vial to the side, and leaps up with a squeal of happiness. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!" He screeches, dancing circles around me. "Cicero is oh so happy! Now we can save the family together!"

I grab his shoulders, stopping him in mid-leap. "Hold on. What do you mean? Why do we have to save anyone?" The jester just looks at me, as if he can't decide whether I'm serious or not. After a few seconds, he decides to explain, just in case.

"One of the men ran away _before _Cicero tried to kill him. That means, he was telling his other friends about us." He says, annunciating every word, and nodding with each phrase.

"Gods damnit!" I yell, kicking a rotted chair near the wall. It shatters on impact. The stress threatens to boil over. "Come on, Cicero, we have to get back! Those Stormcloaks, or whoever they are, could be attacking the sanctuary right now!"

The fool nods sharply, and without another word, sprints out the door. I follow, hot on his heels. We race through the sanctuary, my leather boots slapping the wet ground, while the jester pads almost noiselessly with his felt ones. We don't encounter any further guardians, for which I murmur a quiet thanks to Sithis. Within minutes, we reach the exit. Cicero heaves it open, and I marvel at the strength he carries in his tiny body.

I jump out of the door, and look around wildly, trying to find Shadowmere. I curse, loudly, when I remember that I'd lent him to Arnbjorn.

"Damnit. We're gonna have to run back." I mutter, kicking at the snow. Cicero chuckles, then stops slowly, as he realizes that I'm serious.

"Listener…that is a very long way to run."

I grin at him, suddenly amused. "Not if we run my way." I hold out my arms. "Hop in." The jester leaps into my arms without a second thought, contrary to his earlier skepticism. "**WULD NA KEST!" **Cicero cackles with glee, as we race across the icy tundra. The wind whips through my hair, and icy crystals sting my cheeks. As dark as the situation is, I feel the pure joy of speed as it sweeps away all else. I make a wide berth around Dawnstar, and then angle south. I increase my speed even further, and tear across the ground, leaving a white streak in my wake.

**Don't forget to drop your thoughts right down there. All you have to do is press one little button. And then over a hundred little buttons, as you type. It's greatly appreciated :)**


	18. Chapter 18

**Not super happy with it, not overly annoyed with it. I'm feeling pretty neutral about this chapter. ****Thanks for all of the reviews for the last one, by the way. I was truly flattered :) Anyways, hope it's readable. Enjoy!**

**CHAPTER 18**

I run for over ten hours with barely a pause. The first few hours pass quickly, as the power of my shout keeps Cicero and I nearly flying across Skyrim. But once we pass Whiterun, the jester begins to grow heavy in my arms. By the time we enter Falkreath hold, I have to concentrate fiercely on not stumbling, which at this velocity would be fatal. And when we finally reach the skull-embossed door to the sanctuary, it's all I can do to keep from collapsing to the ground.

I all but drop Cicero onto the forest floor as I end the shout. The sudden loss of such a weight causes me to stumble, and lose my balance. I clutch a nearby tree trunk, desperately trying to keep myself upright. I blink furiously. The world spins before my eyes. My head is swimming. My vision dims. I'm on the ground, now. I'm dimly aware that this is the wrong place for me, that I have a duty to tell Astrid…something. But I can't remember what it is.

Then, a multitude of hands are grabbing me, my feet, and my shoulders. I struggle feebly, but I'm far too weak to resist. I feel the open air beneath me as I'm lifted off the ground. A distorted voice yells something, but I can't understand the words, and I'm unable to make out the speaker. I feel movement, and I come to the realization that I'm probably being carried somewhere. A screeching sound echoes inside my senses. I cringe, but it's gone as soon as I take notice of it. Just as I lose consciousness completely, I hear the deep, echoing boom of a mighty door slamming shut.

* * *

I awake to a humming melody. It's strangely familiar, as if I'd heard it in a dream. Then, I recognize Gabriella's voice, and suddenly, I remember every single note, soft and clear. It's the lullaby she sang to me, after she and Babette had rescued me from Hern's clutches, months ago. I listen to the lilting tune, the words beckoning me towards sleep. But then, very softly, I hear Amaril's voice in the back of my head.

_Awaken. You must warn Astrid. Don't forget._

I remember exactly why I'd nearly killed myself sprinting all the way back to the sanctuary. I force my eyes open, and see Gabriella's face. The fabric of her hood is piled on her shoulders, and her waves of white hair flow loosely around her head. The beautiful dunmer's crimson orbs close, then slowly open again. Weakly, I reach my hand out towards her face. She smiles at the touch, and nuzzles my palm. Her skin is warm. She leans forward, silky hair brushing against my face. Her soft, perfect lips meet my chapped ones, in a kiss of unconditional love.

"You're awake." She whispers, after a moment. She smiles, and reaches down to run her fingers through my auburn hair. I chuckle at the statement, and nod.

"Indeed." I sit up slowly, every bone in my body screeching in protest. I wince as my back cracks, then carefully rest against the headboard. As the blankets slip off my chest, I notice that Gabriella must have undressed me. I look around my small room, noting the bucket full of cold water, along with a washcloth. I look up at the dark elf. "This seems familiar." I grin.

She laughs, the sound like raindrops on a crystal chime. "Yes, you do seem to have developed a habit of placing yourself in unhealthy situations."

"That first time wasn't my fault!" I protest. Then I remember the circumstances around said incident, and conclude that it was indeed my fault. Completely, in fact. "Okay…maybe it was." I concede. I frown in mock-anger, and grumble, "Fine. You win."

Gabriella grins at my words. "Then everything is as it should be."

I twitch my foot beneath the blanket, feebly attempting to kick her leg. When I'm unsuccessful, she laughs, and kisses me on the cheek. Her eyes are warm when she looks back at me.

"I love you." She says, her smile radiant.

"I love you, too." I reply, taking her hand in mine.

The silence stretches on, but it's not uncomfortable. It's pleasant, and peaceful, and I'm loathe to break it when the time comes.

"What happened, after I passed out?"

Gabriella frowns slightly, remembering. I wonder how long I'd been asleep.

"I was nervous the entire time you were gone. I was waiting for you at the entrance, and so I heard your arrival." She begins. "When you collapsed, I had just opened the door. I called for help, and Veezara and Arnbjorn came to your aid. They carried you down here."

"What of Cicero?" I ask, surprised that she hadn't mentioned my failure to kill the jester yet.

The dunmer shakes her head. "No one looked twice at him." I give her a deeply confused look, and she laughs. "Honestly, Daanik, you are as blind as a falmer." She smiles, and squeezes my hand. "You are part of our family. Every one of us loves you like a brother. Except for me, that is." She winks, and I smile. "We were far more concerned about you than the likes of him."

I'm truly and deeply touched by her words. It'd been so long since I'd felt like I had a true family. The last time was when I'd almost been killed while on a job for the Companions, and Vilkas, Farkas, Kastus, Skjor, Aela, and even Kodlak himself had hunted down the offending bandit. They had brought his head back on a pike as consolation. _I think I teared up a bit at that. _I think, grinning to myself.

"After we were certain that you were definitely going to live, however, Astrid confronted Cicero with the entire Brotherhood at her back. He's fine, don't worry." She adds, seeing my distraught expression. "After a while, I got him to _calmly_ explain exactly what happened. After a while, Astrid believed him, largely based on your judgement, and apologized for what happened." She pauses, and a look of discontent mars her perfect features. "We are not sure what to expect yet. But…we are prepared, for whatever is to befall us."

In answer, I attempt to heave myself up and off the bed. My arms fail me, however, and I collapse back down. I wince, as the wood of the bed frame digs into my back. Gabriella makes a disapproving sound, and hands me a large, green potion. I take a sip of the vile liquid, and make a face as it burns in my throat. The heat seems to waken my limbs, however, and I down the rest of the vial as fast as I can. After a few moments, I regain enough strength to stand up. I throw the covers off, and stand up, wearing only my underclothes. The dark elf hands me my pack, containing my armor, and I hastily pull it on. I leave my hood off, however, deciding to leave it my room, along with my bow, for the time being. I strap one of my twin daggers at my waist, and slip the other into my boot.

Gabriella and I exit the small chamber, and walk along silently along the stony hallway. The air in the sanctuary is strange; there are absolutely no sounds of human activity, save for the repeated clanging of Arnbjorn's forge.

"He is constructing barricades." Gabriella explains, apparently reading my thoughts.

The cold hallway opens into the sanctuary's main room. The sound of Arnbjorn's hammer on hot steel grows louder, accompanied by the lightly rushing waterfall. "Where are we going?" I ask.

Gabriella points towards Astrid's quarters. "Astrid wanted to see you as soon as you were able. I assume that she desires to discuss defensive strategies with you, or something of the like." I start to head over to the indicated direction, but stop, when I realize that the dunmer isn't following me. I cast her a questioning look, and she explains, "I am to aide Babette in her alchemy orders. Astrid wants as many paralytic agents as we can muster."

I nod, and stride towards her, pulling her close. I breathe in the beautiful woman's scent, savoring it and every other part of her that I can sense. We separate, with a quick kiss, and go about our duties without another word. She glides off to the alchemy nook, while I make my way over to Astrid's desk.

The slim, blonde woman is leaning over a map of Falkreath hold. She's mumbling something to herself, intent on her work. So intent, in fact, that she doesn't notice my approach. After a second, I carefully place my hand on her shoulder. She jumps underneath my touch, and whirls around.

"Oh, Daanik. It's just you." She sighs. The stress is visible in her face. Her skin is pale, and her eyes are rimmed with dark circles. Her body is extremely tense, and she stands on the balls of her feet. She fiddles with one of the daggers on her desk. Her lips twitch. "I'm glad to see that you're alright."

I dip my head, trying to hide my concern. "Gabriella said that you wanted to see me." I state, scanning the map on her desk. The sanctuary's location is clearly marked by a red skull, near the city of Falkreath. The rest of the markings mean nothing to me, besides those of the city crests.

The blonde woman nods at me words. "Yes, I did. The news that you and Cicero brought us is…well, disturbing, to say the least." She sighs deeply, and walks around the table to slump into her chair. She leans her head in her hands. After a minute, she looks up again. "We are few, Daanik." Her voice cracks from sheer exhaustion. She looks like she hasn't slept since she first ordered me to kill the jester. "If Cicero is right, and a stormcloak patrol has found our sanctuary, then we must be very cautious. We're all extremely skilled fighters here. But we can't stand against Ulfric, not if he sends his army after us."

"But why would he?" I interject. "He's too busy fighting the empire to care about us. What motivation could he possibly have to hunt the Dark Brotherhood?"

Astrid answers quickly, without hesitation. "Publicity. Ulfric has always considered himself a hero of the people, the self-proclaimed protector of Skyrim, and that kind of thing." Her voice carries a tinge of amusement within it, as she continues, "And what is the Brotherhood, but the epitome of evil? We're assassins. We're what goes bump in the night. What better way to gain the trust of the people, than to slay such a specter?"

I press my lips together, conceding defeat. Then another thought occurs to me, and I decide to voice it. "What if this is a localized thing? What if Ulfric has nothing to do with it, and all this is is a rabble of drunken soldiers, fancying themselves vigilantes?"

Astrid sighs, and leans forward onto her desk. I feel a tinge of regret for arguing with the poor woman. I ignore it, however. Pity would do me no good in this situation, and neither would Astrid appreciate it.

"Yes, I've thought of that as well. It's a possibility, no doubt, but none of us can prove either scenario." She shrugs. "If we are under attack, then we might as well prepare for the worst." There is a long pause.

"What would you have me do?" I ask, quietly.

She fixes me with an intense gaze, as she says her next words. "I have thought about this long and hard, Daanik. So hear me out, before you argue with me. Alright?" I indicate my assent, albeit begrudgingly. She leans back in her chair, and clears her throat. "I want you to continue your current assignment. I want you to go kill the emperor." I open my mouth to protest, but she cuts me off with a raised eyebrow. "Listen to my reasoning first."

I groan, and close my mouth again. I cross my arms, and look at her expectantly. She nods. "Thank you." She breathes in deeply. "This is the surest way to secure the safety of the Brotherhood. If we were to kill Ulfric himself, then those that now know of our location will seek our demise. Any and all stormcloaks will be out for blood. We would be decimated. And doing nothing but waiting, as I'm sure you'll agree, is not an option. But if we kill the emperor…" Astrid pauses, and looks me dead in the eyes. "Ulfric will be overjoyed. He'll be a massive step closer to the end of the war, and above all, won't need to kill us to rally support for his cause. Previous skeptics, who believed that his ragtag group of warriors wouldn't stand a chance against the mighty legion, will flock to him like moths to a flame." She leans back, with a pleased expression on her face. "He'll forget all about us."

I grimace. "As much sense as it makes, it stills feels wrong for me to leave at a time like this." I run a hand through my red hair, trying to relieve a bit of the stress that's building up in my stomach. "I should be here, protecting the sanctuary, ready to fight along with all of you."

Astrid's voice takes on a soothing tone, that of a mother to her child. "You will be, brother. Your actions will not only further our reputation, but save our very lives." She makes a face, and says, "I would say that you're saving the Night Mother's life as well, but…"

I roll my eyes, and chuckle slightly. "When do you want me to leave?"

"As soon as you're able."

I grunt an acknowledgement, and tell Astrid that I'll leave tomorrow morning. She nods in assent, and turns back to her map, in a clear dismissal. As I leave, I hear her muttering to herself. Then a growl, and a curse as she vigorously erases something. I turn back around.

"Astrid, please, go to sleep." She looks at me like I've grown a second head.

"What?"

"I said, go to bed. Get some rest." I cross my arms, and strike a determined stance. "You're no help this way. Please." My voice takes on a softer tone. "You look like you haven't slept in a week." Her lowered gaze indicates that my estimation may be more correct than I'd hoped. "You'll kill yourself, if you keep this up."

Though it clearly pains her to do so, the blonde woman nods, and sighs in defeat. She heaves herself out of her chair, and stumbles. I catch her arm, and she murmurs her thanks. She steadies herself, and I release her.

"Have Arnbjorn wake me in a three hours." She croaks. "Or if anything happens."

"I will." I promise, not intending to do anything of the sort. I follow the exhausted woman with my gaze, until the shutting door conceals her from view. Worried, I tread over to Arnbjorn's forge. My head aches.

I sigh, and attempt to clear my mind to alleviate some of my apprehension. It doesn't work. I groan, as the sharp clanging of steel on steel sends a bolt of pain lancing through my already throbbing skull. The hulking man ceases his smithing as I approach.

"Make it quick, I have to finish this." He growls, gesturing to a row of solid steel barricades. My eyes widen in appreciation at the work. Each is nearly five feet tall, and supported by eight long, diagonally crossed rods, four facing forward and four back, meant to be buried a few inches in the ground for stabilization. The bars who's back end would be buried, on the defending side, elongate into three-foot long, razor spikes on the enemy side. Each piece, thought separately crafted, have been smelted together into a single entity. I gently lay the tip of my finger on the point of one, and wince slightly as it draws blood.

"They're nearly unbreakable." Arnbjorn rumbles, noticing my expression. "As long as you protect them, that is. Continuous swings from a warhammer will eventually crush anything." I nod absentmindedly, and pry my gaze away from the barricades. "Did you need anything?" He asks, a bit impatiently.

"Yea." I reply, turning towards him. "I made Astrid get some rest. She wants to be woken up in three hours. But…" I trail off, and the massive nord nods in understanding.

"She'll get a good night's rest."

Startled, I realize that I have no idea what time it is. "Hold on, Arnbjorn." I say, as he turns back to his work. He sighs in exasperation, and I give him an apologetic look. "What time is it?" I ask, but correct myself quickly. "Actually, what day is it?"

The man grunts. "Ah yea, you were knocked out a while." He furrows his brow, thinking. "It's Middas, and probably somewhere around ten at night. So you've been asleep for a day and a half."

_Damn. I arrived at the sanctuary Tirdas morning, if my half-delirious memory serves. _I thank Arnbjorn, and make my way over to Babette and Gabriella's alchemy corner. When I reach it, I peer inside cautiously, my vision slightly obscured by some kind of green smoke. My eyes water. I try to fan it away with my hands, but am unsuccessful. _I probably don't look too sane either. _I think, and roll my eyes. An idea comes to me, and I consider it. After a second, I shrug, deciding it couldn't hurt to try.

"LOK VAH KOOR." I whisper, as quietly as possible. A gentle breeze seems to blow through the sanctuary, and the vile smoke dissipates.

"Oh, hello Daanik." Babette pipes up from the corner. She's bent over the alchemy table, concentrating fiercely on a vial of poisonous-looking liquid. She doesn't look up as she speaks. "I hope you didn't breathe in too much of that smoke. It'll probably paralyze you." I chuckle, slightly out of fear.

"I think I'm fine, thanks. How're the poisons coming along?" I ask.

"Gabriella's out collecting ingredients." The child vampire states, ignoring my initial question, yet answering my inevitable one.

"Ah." I turn around, intending to leave her to her work.

"Daanik, wait." I turn back around, and before I know it, the small vampire's arms are wrapped around me in a hug. What she can reach of me, that is. Her eyes are squeezed tightly shut. Surprised, I don't respond for a second, but then I relax, and hug the child back.

"Just in case." She murmurs, releasing me. I smile.

"Don't worry. I'll go ensure the Brotherhood's safety, and I'll return with barrels full of gold." I assure her, assuming correctly that she knows of Astrid's plans for me.

She nods, and walks back to the alchemy table without another word. I turn around as well, and head into the main room, through the narrow hallway, into the sanctuary's anteroom, and then out into the cold, night air. I breathe in deeply, savoring the scent of the woods. I look up at the stars, as I always do. After a few minutes, I look back down, and begin making my way through the forest. I walk calmly and steadily. I know exactly where Gabriella will be.

**Don't forget to review ;)**


	19. Chapter 19

**With this chapter, the story is reaching it's end. I'm thinking another two or three. This is a very short chapter, and I apologize. But it was necessary. I hope you like it :) Don't forget to review!**

**CHAPTER 19**

_**Gabriella's POV**_

_What an immaculate sight. _I gaze up at the heavens, at the obsidian expanse of the sky. It is littered with stars. They look like minute slivers of shattered diamond. They twinkle, like tiny flames, flickering in the breeze. It is too early yet for the aurora to appear, but the night is beautiful, all the same.

A soft sigh escapes my lips. I throw off my hood, and my white hair tumbles down my back in pearly waves. It gleams in the moonlight. I lower myself onto the ground, and let my feet dangle off the edge of Daanik's perch. I study the sky, imagining that my nord must have sat in this exact spot, looking at these exact stars, hundreds of times before me. The thought makes me smile, but also brings with it a strange sadness. Loneliness. _Daanik, standing against the world, with no one to help him. _I content myself with the fact that he is no longer alone, and never will be.

A cool breeze stirs something near my knee, and my eye catches on a flower of beautiful nightshade. I pluck it from the ground with a small smile, and raise it up against the light of the moon. I study the perfect petals. The center of the flower begins as white, but gradually darkens to a deep purple, shot through with pearly streaks. I raise it to my nose, and inhale the sweet scent.

Suddenly, I stiffen, as my trained ears pick up the barely audible sound of footsteps, padding in my direction. I turn around, sharply, but then relax again, as I recognize the outline of Daanik's form. I turn back to face the sky, and he sits down next to me, as quiet as midnight.

We stay this way for a very long time. I, twirling the flower through my fingers, and he, gazing up at the stars, his expression unreadable. Comfortable with each other's presence.

A breeze ruffles our hair, and pulls at the flower in my hand. On impulse, I raise it up, and release it. Both Daanik's eyes and mine follow it, as the breeze carries it higher and higher into the air. Finally, the wind settles, and the flower begins to lose altitude. One by one, each petal disconnects from the rest of the stem, and drifts away on an unfelt draft. With each loss, the flower begins to fall faster, and finally, it spirals out of my sight, swallowed up by the black forest beneath us.

"Please stay safe." Daanik breaks the silence. I turn to look at him, but his head is bowed, and his eyes are shadowed. His hood is off, but it is of no matter. The darkness of the night conceals his features from my view just as well.

"I will." I promise, softly. I draw my knees up to my chest, and wrap my arms around them for warmth. Still, I shiver. Whether from cold, or something else, I cannot tell.

The nord nods, his russet hair falling into his eyes. He pushes it back with a grumble. Finally, he looks at me, blue eyes meeting my red ones. "I'll see you again." He promises, a hint of almost…desperation, in his voice. It makes me uneasy.

"I know." I murmur, almost silently.

He moves towards me in a quick, fluid motion. His eyes are intense, but his hands are infinitely gentle as his fingers brush a strand of hair out of my eyes. "Just...in case, I want you to know that you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I can't imagine life without you. You're the most amazing person I've ever met, and I love you with all my heart, Gabriella Aschrown."

My vision blurs a bit, as tears begin to fill my eyes. In a soft voice, I whisper, "I adore you, Daanik Sun-strider."

He smiles, and kisses me. Long, and sweet. I nibble at his lower lip, eliciting a surprised sound from him. He doesn't protest, however, and deepens the kiss, sliding his tongue along my lower lip, asking for entrance. I part my lips in answer. Our tongues dance, each attempting to gain dominance over the other. With a nimble hand creeping up Daanik's leg, I am successful. I explore his mouth, moaning at the taste of him. Our passion grows, as our kisses become hungrier by the second. The nord's tongue finally overcomes mine. Now it is his turn to ravage my mouth, and I whimper in pleasure.

He growls at the sound, and releases me, just long enough to practically tear off his armor. I do the same with my robe, and we crash together again, his hands roaming over my body, while mine undo his belt. He fumbles with the string of my breast bindings for only a second, before he decides it would be faster to simply tear it. I gasp as the cold air hits my bare skin. Finally, I manage to unbuckle his gods damned pants, and he kicks them off. They may have gone off the edge of the cliff, but I cannot really tell.

We tear off the rest of each other's close in less than a second. He lays me down, into the grass, and holds himself over me, kissing and nibbling at every part of my body that he can reach. My hands roam over him, nails tracing the contours of his muscular back. I gasp, as his teeth find the sensitive place near my hipbone. He notices, and prods it with his tongue. I squirm at his teasing, the added cold of the air making me shiver all the more.

I decide that it is my turn, and pull him down on top of me. The feeling of his rough skin against my soft form is indescribable. My mouth finds his jaw, and trails fiery kisses down to his collarbone. I nibble at the skin there, and he lets out a low moan. I feel his hands on my thighs, as he positions me. His hips move. My eyes close, and my mouth opens, as he enters me.

We are no longer outside. The stormcloaks are a forgotten memory. The sanctuary is irrelevant, and the Brotherhood is nowhere to be found in our minds. All that matters are our intwined bodies, gasping, biting, moaning. I am dimly aware of the aurora appearing at some point during the night, but the thought is quickly silenced by Daanik's tongue.

We continue for hours, and when we finally collapse, it is a wonder that the russet-haired nord's arm somehow finds it's way around my waist. His breathing quickly becomes steady, and he is asleep within minutes. I smile at the sound of his chest, rising and falling. Soon, I close my eyes as well.

When morning comes, he is gone.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Let me begin by apologizing for being gone for so long. I've been swamped with personal issues, not to mention the beginning of school. I've been away for far too long. If anyone has actually put up with waiting for an update for so long, here it is. I hope it's alright. Enjoy :)**

* * *

CHAPTER 20

_**Daanik's POV**_

I open my eyes, and mold seamlessly from sleeping to waking. I relish the cold air on my skin. I'm up in a second, and pulling my armor on in another. Thankfully, it hadn't fallen off the edge of the overhang last night. Finally, as my gloves slide on smoothly, I realize that my hood is still in the Sanctuary. I think about retrieving it, but then a better idea comes to me. I spot Gabriella's hood, dangling out of the pile of clothes she's using as a pillow. There aren't any gender differences between the Brotherhood issue hoods, so I pick it up, and pull it on.

I smile. _It smells like her. _I watch the beautiful elf's sleeping form, as I debate whether to wake her or not. She stirs a bit, and mumbles something, but does not open her eyes. I decide to let her sleep. With a sudden pang, I kneel down, and kiss her forehead. I don't wait a moment longer, however. I step past her, and begin to jog, intending to fetch Shadowmere from a clearing he's fond of. It's about half a mile away.

I begin to speed up, enjoying the exertion. I refrain from shouting, afraid that in the thick woods, an unexpected tree could prove to be my undoing. My mind begins to wander, and I speed up to a full sprint, not willing to think so early in the morning. _The sun has barely risen. _I think, grumbling under my breath. My stomach growls, and I wince. _Eh, I'll pick up something in Solitude. I mean, I am posing as a chef. There's gotta be some bread and cheese around there somewhere. _

As I run, my trained ears pick up the sound a branch snapping, where one shouldn't be. In an instant, I go from complaining and sulky to alert and silent as the grave. I stop running immediately, standing completely still. I don't blink, I don't breathe. When I hear nothing, I continue on, but slowly, with my daggers unsheathed. My head snaps around, as I hear a short, quickly muffled clanking. I leap towards it, just as I hear the same sound behind me. I turn my head, just in time to see the incoming head of a warhammer slam into my stomach.

To say that the breath was knocked out of me would be an understatement. I feel each rib as it snaps. Six, exactly. I feel my stomach tearing, as the cold steel slams me against a tree. I feel my collarbone, and then my kneecaps crack, as a blow to the shoulder slams me onto my knees. What I don't feel, however, is the blow to the head with the haft of the hammer meant to render me unconscious, for I already am.

* * *

The second I wake, I try to move my hands. Panic rises, as I realize that I can't. It abates however, when I notice that I'm not in pain. My bones have been healed. I try to open my eyes, but I'm unable to. Claustrophobia sets in, and my chest heaves as I breathe heavily through the gag in my mouth. I try as hard as I can to calm myself.

_Hern is dead. Hern is dead. Hern is dead. Gabriella killed him. She saved me. _Slowly, gradually, I calm down_. _As I do, I berate myself for my fear. Shame courses through me, and I growl, and tear at my bonds.

"Look at the little skeever struggle."

Instantly, I stop moving. The voice is low, and extremely rough. It sounds like gravel being chewed up, and then spit out again. Like the man's throat had been cut, but he'd survived. I try to ask, _who are you_, but the gag muffles any and all sound. Then, I feel the blade of a knife, cold as ice, on my neck. I stay completely still, as it slides up to rest on my jugular. Finally, it moves, but instead of slitting my throat, it cuts the bindings off my eyes.

I squint at the bright sun, surprised. I'd assumed that I would be kept in a dark, wet dungeon somewhere. In reality, I'm shackled between two wooden structures, high up on the top of a tower. I peer over the edge as best I can, and estimate that I'm nearly three hundred feet in the air.

I turn my attention to the people around me. Most of them are typical stormcloak soldiers; clearly nords, dressed in blue chain mail and full-face helmets. Except for one. The man in the front, a grizzled-looking warrior, is dressed differently. He looks as if, while walking, he'd come across a mighty bear, and had slain it. And then decided to wear it as armor. He speaks, and I recognize his voice as the one that had spoken before.

"Trash." He spits on the floor. I watch him, warily studying the man's each and every movement. He's shorter than the other stormcloaks, but clearly commands tremendous respect.

He stops pacing, and turns to look at me. His harsh, grey eyes bore into mine like needles, and I meet his gaze, trying to convey an equal amount of ferocity. The seconds tick by, one by one. No one moves. Neither of us blink. Suddenly, he whips his head around, to stare at the soldiers behind him. The man's authority is further proven, as they scramble to stand perfectly straight under his fierce gaze. The clanking of their weapons and armor does little to break the charged air.

When the grizzled man is content with the appearance of his men, he shifts his gaze back to my suspended body. "My name is Galmar Stone-Fist." He rumbles. "And you…" His face contorts in disgust, and again, he spits on the ground in front of me. "You are an insult to Skyrim."

Vaguely, I recognize the name as one belonging to a very prominent, high-ranking stormcloak general. I remain perfectly still, doing my best to appear compliant, all the while searching for an escape route. My eyes dart from point to point, counting the soldiers, estimating the width of the platform, and trying to find a way to un-gag myself. _If I could only shout, just once…_

My eyes are drawn back to Galmar, as he begins to advance towards me. His fists are clenched, and his teeth are bared in a snarl. He grabs me roughly by the collar, and roars, "No true nord would ever consider _speaking _to that Brotherhood scum, much less becoming one!" In a split second, his almost crazed voice lowers drastically, until he's talking directly to me. "Especially you. _Dragonborn._" He spits the final word, making it sound like something vile. "You have disgraced Skyrim, it's proud nord inhabitants, and the legacy of Talos with your cowardice." His voice lowers even further, as he whispers in my ear. "And you will die for it."

At his words, something sparks in me. I can't tell whether it's fear, fury, or simple survival instincts, but it courses through me like a lightning bolt. I wrench at the chains binding me in place with all my might, the gag muffling the sounds of my struggle. For a moment, as my arms scream, my teeth grate against each other, and the veins stand out on my neck, I feel hopeful. The wooden posts creak promisingly, and the chains themselves seems ready to break. But not a second later, Galmar's fabled fist slams into my stomach with all the strength of a stampeding horse. The air rushes from my lungs, and I open my mouth in a soundless gasp. My arms go limp, and the gag fills my mouth. My head spins, and I'm afraid that I'm going to pass out. But then, a tiny gap appears in the gag, an almost invisible tear. It's barely noticeable, but it's enough. I suck in a deep breath, and my vision clears. I become aware of my surroundings again.

The soldiers are visibly sneering. Some are shaking their heads, while others look upon me with contempt. But I realize, whether disappointed or simply furious at their lost hero, they all want to see me dead. _They're here to watch the show._

Galmar steps back from my winded body, disgust written across his craggy face. "Assassin scum." He steps to the edge of the tower, and raises his hand high above his head, as if signaling someone on the ground. I crane my neck, looking for who or what might be the recipient of his attention, but his broad form obscures my vision. All I see is row after row of Falkreath's forests. _At least we're still in the hold. _After a moment, he turns back to me, his expression calmer. Not in a reassuring way, though. He opens his mouth, and speaks again, in his butchered voice.

"The Dark Brotherhood is a blight on the face of Skyrim." He begins pacing, but his harsh eyes remain locked on me. "You're no more than a band of cutthroats and cowards, willing to take advantage of an honorable people." At this point, he turns, speaking to both me and his soldiers. "Not long ago, a true hero of Skyrim arose. He gave the people hope. He singlehandedly shouted down Alduin and his dragon hordes, freeing the northland from the worst menace it's faced in centuries." Galmar's voice slowly rises in pitch and volume, until he's shouting at his congregation. "But when Skyrim is threatened, when Talos himself, your _ancestor_-" He whips his head towards me with his last words, "-is threatened, what do you do? Nothing! You hide! You join the lowest of the low, instead of fighting and dying for your country alongside Ulfric Stormcloak, a _true hero_!" He turns back towards me, face to face again. "You don't deserve the title of Ysmir, you _worm_." The soldiers nod, and murmur among themselves. A few even cheer. I grit my teeth, and try to ignore it all, continuing to search for a means of escape. I find none.

Galmar lowers his voice to a normal level, speaking directly to me. "Ulfric will wipe this stain off of our homeland, once and for all." His grizzled face relaxes into an almost pleased expression. "I see your confusion. You're wondering why I captured you, and didn't just storm your sanctuary." I raise my eyebrows slightly. I wasn't really wondering that at all, but it's not a bad question. Galmar continues with his explanation. "As pathetic as you are, many in Skyrim still see you as Alduin's bane. Everyone would hear about Ulfric's victory, and those that do know of your Brotherhood affiliation would eventually put two and two together. They wouldn't take kindly to the death of the Dragonborn, and the Stormcloaks would lose much of their support." His voice takes on an almost patronizing, yet excited, tone. "So, Ulfric won't kill you. He will, however, make a grand speech at your funeral, after you die in a tragic tower collapse." Some of the soldiers chuckle darkly. I force a growl past the gag. Galmar ignores it. "Just unfortunate, that is. As for the rest of your skeever-hole…" A wide grin stretches across the man's face, like an open wound. "Well, I imagine you'll be able to see the smoke from here."

I begin to struggle then, panic and fear for my family, and utter _fury _for the stormcloaks rise up in my throat. I tear desperately at the chains, but the wooden posts remain sound. The soldiers laugh, as they exit the tower through a trap door. The last one files out, and the heavy hatch slams shut. Suddenly, the day is eerily silent. The sun beats down on me, as I do my best to tear the posts straight out of the stone. When that doesn't work, I begin kicking at the base of one of the structures, slamming my boot into it over and over again. I continue on for what must be minutes, painfully aware that my time is running out. Then, finally, I hear a sound. It's not very loud, in fact, I'm afraid that I imagined it. But then I hear it again; a low, but distinct cracking. Relief and elation floods my veins, and I begin to kick with renewed vigor. Finally, I feel the post begin to give way. But just as it does, the entire tower shakes. I freeze, still shackled and helpless. I wait for the feeling to pass, but it doesn't. The structure begins to shake harder and harder, and I resume kicking, but it's no use. I physically feel the entire tower sink at least a foot lower.

And then, I feel gravity shift. The tower tips. And as I fall, I close my eyes. _We're all going to die. _I give up. I relax. And I realize, with mild surprise, that I've accepted the fact of my imminent death.

But then, I think of Gabriella. I see my love, with her beautiful waves of silver hair, and her eyes like Hircine's Bloodmoon. I hear her crystalline laugh, as perfect as diamond chimes. And I feel her soft kiss in the dark, as the light fades. Her lilting voice echoes hauntingly, singing alone in an empty cathedral. I feel pity for the lonely voice.

And then, I come to a realization. _I'm a coward._ _No, _fuck _this, I'm not going to leave her alone! _My eyes fly open, and I come to my senses. Only a second has passed. I'm still falling. My shoulders scream as they're being pulled away from my body, but I ignore the pain. Dust and smoke fill my eyes and lungs, and I open my mouth to scream one furious, terrified, and determined word.

"**FEIM!"**

Then a feel a sharp pain in the back of my head, and the world goes black.

* * *

I can't breathe. I tear off my gag, and begin to claw at the rubble around me, fingers bloody and bruised. I remember my dream from Winterhold, when I was buried alive, and I dig faster. After what seems like an eternity, I breach the surface, and scramble into the light, ignoring the rocks tearing at my skin. I collapse onto the ground, gasping. I breathe in deeply, frantically, and begin coughing as my lungs fill with dust. It's still the best breath of air I've ever tasted.

After a few minutes, I finally summon the strength to heave myself off the ground. Every inch of me aches, and I grimace, as I look down at my body. The shout had worked. At least, initially. The falling rocks had passed through my ethereal form harmlessly, and my impact on the ground had been almost comfortable. And thankfully, it had worn off only after the tower had collapsed. However, the sheer weight of all the rubble pressing down on me had done substantial damage in itself. I curse, as I press down on my chest, pain lancing through it as I touch obviously cracked ribs. Thankfully, those seem to be the only major injuries, along with a few of the uglier bruises. All in all, I'm fit to travel. Not that I would have stayed, had the opposite been true.

I look in all directions, trying to get my bearings. I begin to walk around the ruined tower, quickly and nervously. _Galmar's obviously planning to attack the sanctuary, he said so himself. And if he takes all the soldiers he has with him, that outnumbers the Brotherhood three to one. They're all amazingly skilled, but still, those are hard odds. _Suddenly, my face pales as I come to a realization: I was knocked unconscious just before my shout took affect. _I have no idea how long it's been since Galmar collapsed the tower. _I study the position of the sun, and determine with relief, that I couldn't have blacked out for longer than half an hour.

I begin to painstakingly climb up the rocky pile, hoping for a better view. I grunt in pain as the piece of stone I'd been holding on to breaks, and my body, ribs first, jerks right into a splintered beam. Cursing loudly, I reach for a new handhold, a ledge just above my head. To my surprise, I feel something besides stone. Curious, I haul my broken body up and onto the platform. The first thing I notice, is that I'm finally at the top. The second thing I notice, is that what I'd felt was leather. My pack, in fact. I rifle through it, astounded that only a single vial of stamina potion was damaged during the fall. I pull out a healing elixir, thanking all the gods, known and unknown. I down the liquid, and groan in slight discomfort, but mostly relief, as my bones and skin knit themselves back together.

Much more alert, I descend the ruins, finding a semblance of joy, even now, in my stretching muscles. I flex my arms, pleased at the feeling of freedom.

Back at the bottom, I resume my search for traces of the stormcloak party. With my mind sharp, not fogged by pain, I notice the trail almost instantly; a footprint here, a broken tree branch there, and so on. Once I'm sure that I'm on the correct path, I set off at a jog. Faster than walking, but not too fast as to miss the trail if it happened to take a sharp turn.

My mood, lightened by the appearance of my pack and my own relative wellbeing, darkens with each step I take. Fear and anger build up in my chest, and suddenly I realize that my face in twisted in a snarl.

_Like a wild animal. _The thought gives me an idea, and I close my eyes, reaching for the seldom-used magic. After Hern, Gabriella had taught me a simply conjuring spell, in case I needed to get a message somewhere quickly. After a few botched attempts, I hear a _thwump _of displaced air, and open my eyes. A shimmering, wolf-like creature looks back at me, expectantly. I walk toward it, cautiously, hand stretched out in front of me. But when it doesn't move, I kneel down, and, somewhat awkwardly, whisper Gabriella's name and my message in it's ear. The familiar barks determinedly, and streaks off through the forest, almost as fast as my whirlwind sprint shout.

I set off again, unwilling to waste any time. Jogging along the stormcloak's trail, I wonder if this is the normal life of someone in the Family. Always worrying about their wellbeing, never knowing sure sure whether they're safe or not, or whether such tension had only arisen after my arrival. With a grim feeling that the latter is, in fact, correct, I jog on, hoping against hope that the familiar will get to the sanctuary in time.

* * *

_**Gabriella's POV**_

_There. _I wipe the sweat off my brow, and place the last vial of the batch into a cloth satchel. I step back, surveying the fruit of Babette's and my labor. Three bags lie on the table in front of me, each containing thirty vials of either stamina poison, a paralytic agent, or a regular health poison. A third of them were to be applied to the pointed tips of Arnbjorn's barricades, while the remaining sixty were for anyone wishing to use them.

"Come on, princess, get those to the main hall."

I look up at Babette's voice, and nod quickly. I gather up the three satchels, plus the three that the vampire had filled, and hurry to the aforementioned room. On my way, I pass Veezara meditating in his room. _Gods, I wish I had that level of mental control. _I had been worried sick about Daanik for the past few hours, accidentally ruining at least five poisons. It had frustrated me to no end, but Babette had not said a word. She knew where my thoughts were directed, and did not blame me.

I reach the main hall, and stride through it, passing the other members of the sanctuary. They had all finished their respective duties long ago, and were now anxiously waiting for either Daanik's successful return, or a stormcloak battalion. Most are not paying attention to each other or me, as I head towards a large table that had been set up in the center. On it is arrayed the proof of Arnbjorn's smithing expertise. Not only had the werewolf been able to forge a fort's worth of the most stable barricades I had ever seen, he had somehow managed to craft an entire spare set of Brotherhood armor, for those that chose to wear it, along with hundreds of arrows, ten razor-sharp daggers, and ten equally deadly swords. And if that weren't enough, each weapon glimmered with some sort of enchantment, thanks to Festus. I add the final supplies to the table: Various poisons from me, and the same amount of restorative potions from Babette.

"Thanks. I think we're all set now." Arnbjorn's voice rumbles from behind me.

"How did you manage to forge a veritable armory in only a few hours?" I ask, turning to face the hulking man. He laughs roughly, and winks. "Little werewolf secret. We don't really have to sleep, so I had the whole night."

I nod. "I wish I did not need sleep. I could have done so much more…" I trail off, as I realize Arnbjorn is no longer listening to me. His head is cocked to the side, and his ears are pricked. Suddenly, he draws his massive battleaxe.

"Look out!" He yells, just as a silver streak flashes into the center of the room. In an instant, the shape is surrounded by a thicket of blades and fireballs. I recognize it, however.

"Wait!" I shout over the clamoring snarls and curses. The room quiets instantly, a testament to the discipline of the Family. None of them move their eyes from the shape, but they wait for me to continue. But before I can explain, the familiar opens it's mouth, and speaks in Daanik's voice.

"They're coming."

Just as fast as it had appeared, the shimmering wolf fades into nothingness, leaving the cavern silent as the grave.

**A/N: Reviews will motivate me. I promise that the next chapter will be up in at most a week ;) Let me know what you think!**


	21. Chapter 21

**I'm back. Kind of. What with school, and working 20+ hours a week, I'm a bit stretched thin. But I'm trying ;) I hope the chapter's okay. Enjoy!**

CHAPTER 21

_**Daanik's POV**_

I place my old map back in my pack. I swing it over my shoulders, but not before removing my twin daedric daggers from it's depths, as well as checking and re-checking it's contents. _I'm still amazed that they didn't just take what they wanted. I mean, some of this stuff is valuable. _Shrugging, I stand back up.

The stormcloak's rough trail had soon led to a road, and then a signpost, for which I was massively grateful. The signpost, because I was finally able to get my bearings, and the road, because I could sprint. I had determined that the tower that had almost become my tomb had, until recently, been an imperial bastion by the name of fort Snowhaven. Obviously, the stormcloaks had fought their way in at some point. _I wonder if they captured such a uniquely tall tower for the express purpose of my murder. _The thought makes me even more uneasy. Being in danger of death is one thing, but knowing that there's a powerful person somewhere in the world, planning every step, is unsettling.

As always, I push the unwanted thought from my mind. I plant my feet in the center of the dirt road, a bit more than a shoulder's width apart. I draw in a deep breath, focusing not only on speed and fluidity as I normally would, but also on efficiency. _ It's imperative that I'm in fighting condition when I get to the sanctuary. If I'm not, I'll be worse than useless. _

I release the thu'um, with all the will and intent I can muster. "**WULD NA KEST**!"

I shoot forward, faster than even Shadowmere could run. I feel much lighter than usual; the added intent had worked. I don't smile, though. I'm too worried.

I tear through the woods, leaping over obstacles, soaring through the air like an arrow shot from on high. I dodge to the side, barely avoiding an unfortunately placed rabbit, that decides to hop in my direction just as my feet touch the ground. After a few seconds, the road begins to narrow dangerously, but I refuse to stop. In fact, I speed up, squinting against the biting wind. My hood, or rather, Gabriella's, slips from the top of my head, it and my hair streaming behind me as I increase my speed in further. Suddenly, a branch slaps against my armored thigh, stinging like a bullwhip. It's not enough to make me stumble, but it hurts all the same. I look down, wincing. Thankfully, the black leather is still intact. _Wouldn't want to be all torn up before the fight, would I? _I think, darkly. Letting out an apprehensive breath, I face forward again.

_Oh, for the love of Mara._

Skyrim's mountains had always fascinated me. Their harsh, ageless majesty made me feel at home, and very much alive. They made me feel free. And, in this case, I was about to feel especially free. Free of traction, that is.

I curse myself for being stupid enough to take my eyes off of the road. I'd looked up just in time to see the forest around me disappear. Time seems to slow, as I take in every detail of my surrounds. I'm about five yards away from the edge of a towering precipice. Apparently, my map had failed to inform me that fort Snowhaven was built on a plateau, on the side of a mountain. _I mean, that's what I assume, anyway. There's no other explanation for a cliff in the middle of a forest. _Dimly, I realize that I should probably be afraid. At my speed, I could clear five yards in less than a second.

With no way to stop myself, and no way to move in a different direction, I decide to take the only course of action available to me: I pour every bit of energy I can into the shout within my limited timespan of one second. The result is astounding.

I launch off the edge of the cliff with an unimaginable velocity. I'm going so fast that I literally can't see where I'm going. Everything is a brown, white, gray, and green blur. I can't tell which direction is up, or my left from my right. I'm barely aware of where I came from. I'm afraid that I'm going to plow into the ground, dashing myself against Skyrim's icy terrain.

"**FEIM ZII GRON**!" I shout, using the same thu'um as I had when I'd survived the tower collapse. I hear the tell-tale _whoosh_, as the particular shout takes effect. With nothing to do but wait, I close my eyes, and count to the seconds. _1…2…3…4…5…_

On the sixth second, I hear a loud thud, and my body stops moving. I feel no pain, however. I realize that I've clenched my body into a ball, slowly relax, taking in my surroundings. Instantly, I know exactly where I am. I whistle in astonishment. My leap, while terrifying, was extremely convenient. Instead of having to weave through a forest for hours, I had essentially jumped straight over most of the path. _I'll reach the sanctuary in an hour, at most. _I feel a knot in the pit of my stomach, as the exhilaration and adrenaline of sprinting fade away, and are replaced by something else. _I'm truly terrified of what I'll find. _I realize. My confidence is gone.

I grit my teeth, and jog into the forest, grimly focusing on simpler things: annoyance at the lack of a road, the bruise on my leg that the stray branch had given me, and another minor grievances. It helps.

After thirty minutes, I smell smoke. I begin running.

After forty-five minutes, I hear the sound of hooves. Shadowmere bursts through the trees in front of me, coming to an almost instant halt. His eyes are wild, and there's a cut on his flank. Blood drips down his dark hide in crimson rivulets.

And then, something strange happens. My vision sharpens, and my ears prick. I hear my heart thudding in my chest, hear the number of beats increasing slowly. I focus on Shadowmere's side, noting the twitch of every minute, black hair. Everything suddenly becomes real. Before now, the recent events had had a dreamlike quality to them. They'd all happened so fast. But now…every detail stands out. A shade drops over the world, and it's edges become clear. Instinctively, I know that I'll never forget a second of the next few hours.

"This is actually happening, isn't it?" I whisper.

Shadowmere snorts, and nudges me with his snout, urging me on. I leap onto his back, and he gallops away, much more gracefully than a horse of his stature should be able to. Within minutes, I hear a scream. It's cut short, and if I were closer, I know that I'd be able to hear the gurgle of blood mixing with breath. Thankfully, I don't recognize the voice. _Good. Brotherhood, one, stormcloaks, zero. Hopefully._

After another minute, an arrow flashes by my face. I feel a slight tug on my left cheek, and feel hot blood drip down my face. Growling fiercely, I turn to look at the source of the projectile. A blue-clad archer, rudimentarily camouflaged, stares back at me from twenty feet in the air, clinging desperately to a tree branch. I snort derisively at the sight; the man was clearly built for heavy combat. His commander might as well have given a troll a bow.

Quickly, I bark, "**FUS**!" The man loses his grip on the thick trunk, and he falls to the ground, twenty feet below him. The small of his back lands squarely on the point of a boulder, breaking his spine with an audible snap.

I leap off of Shadowmere's back, crouching low to the ground as I stalk forward, anticipating an attack from any angle. I throw off my hood. Hiding my face is useless at this point, plus my hearing will be quite a bit sharper without the black fabric covering my ears. The action serves me well; only a few seconds later, I hear the muffled crunch of dry leaves as an armored boot stomps through the underbrush.

"Fragnar!" A rough voice calls. I don't recognize it's owner or the name he calls, so I assume that the voice belongs to another stormcloak. My assumption is confirmed as the massive man blunders directly into my path, his armor clanking like a kitchen. The second that he's within reach, I sweep up and out of hiding, angling my dagger across his throat. He collapses, eyes wide with surprise.

And then, I smell smoke.

I abandon all caution, and sprint for the sanctuary. Trees and stray blue-clad figures whip by me in a blur, and within seconds, I'm in the thick of the fight. What I see takes my breath away. The clearing in front of the entrance is a veritable sea of blue chain mail and heavy weaponry. Interspersed between the soldiers are three specks of red, blades flashing as they fend off attacks from all angles. I recognize Arnbjorn, Nazir, and Veezara. _That makes sense, they're the brawlers. The magic-oriented members are probably inside the sanctuary, behind the barricades. If they're still intact, that is. _A bolt of lightning lances out from behind the razor-tipped barrier, frying a stormcloak in his armor and confirming my guess. It had most likely been Festus's doing.

I circle the main force, attempting to get a clear view of the sanctuary's entrance. I've alerted too many enemies to my presence already, however, and they converge like flies. I try to waylay them by knocking one of their comrades into them, but others have already noticed the commotion, and come at me from the other side. Hemmed in, and with nowhere to go, I settle into a solid stance, and draw my second dagger. A wild delight grips me, and I leap into action, growling fiercely. Blood sprays onto my face as I swipe through a soldier's soft jugular, turning his battle cry into a strangled gurgle. Another man decides to try his luck, and comes at me head on, battleaxe raised to strike. Before he takes two steps, I lash out with my foot, kicking him in the chest with a ferocious strength. I feel his ribs give way beneath my boot, and he flies back, bowling over two of his companions.

Arnbjorn notices the sudden change in the enemy's activity, and looks across the battlefield, view unhindered due to his massive stature. He catches sight of me, and throws me a feral grin, and as I watch, his canines begin to elongates. He takes a massive swipe at the soldiers in front of him, clearing a small space in the blue forest. But then he goes down suddenly, and the sea converges over him. For a second, I'm stunned, staring blankly at the spot where the old wolf had disappeared.

But then, with a roar, multiple soldiers are sent flying through the air like rag-dolls, while the rest are eviscerated by razor teeth and claws. In Arnbjorn's place stands a gargantuan creature, covered in black bristles, yellow eyes gleaming with a ravenous hunger. The werewolf raises it's snout, dripping with blood, and lets out a blood freezing howl. The soldiers nearest to the transformed nord back away hastily, cowering behind their shields and jabbing frantically with their weapons. I take the opportunity provided by the distraction to slash through the back of a soldier's neck, severing his spine. The wolf engages the rest with a savage glee.

I hear a grunt of pain to my right, and recognize the scaly rasp of Veezara's voice. I turn to face the source of the sound, just in time to see the argonian yank an arrow out of his thigh. Relief that he's relatively unharmed turns to fear as a soldier right behind him raises a heavy mace.

"Duck!" I yell, and Veezara drops to the ground without a second's hesitation. I whip my arm through the air, hurling the dagger in my right hand at the stormcloak. The blade sinks squarely into his chest with a dull thump, and he falls like a sack of potatoes. The argonian yanks the blade from the man's chest, tossing it back to me. I catch it, and nod my thanks, my earlier bloodlust replaced by a grim determination at my brother's near brush with death.

Slowly, little by little, the tide of enemies begins to part. With Arnbjorn and Nazir on one side, and Veezara and myself on the other, the stormcloak horde is slowly being split in half at the mouth of the sanctuary. Minute by minute, inch by inch, a clear path between the two halves of the blue force are formed, and the Brotherhood actually begins to gain ground. Suddenly, I hear a whooshing sound, and a second later, a concussive force knocks me flat on my back. Dizzily, I look around. I'm not the only one on the ground; in fact, the massive blast had hit everyone in the clearing. I stagger upright, apparently recovering faster than the fallen soldiers. I look for the source of the blast, wishing that my head would stop spinning. I glance towards the sanctuary, and with a sinking heart, I take in the destruction before me. Arnbjorn's barricade lies in ruins, torn to shreds by the explosion. The smoldering remnants are scattered around the mouth of the entrance. But not only had that first seemingly impenetrable line of defense been reduced to scrap, the heavy black door had also been completely blown off it's hinges.

Groggily, I grasp vainly for a better understanding of the situation. The stormcloaks clearly hadn't been any more prepared than I was; they're just now beginning to recover. _But who else would have caused the explosion? _Finally, I regain my sense of hearing, and with it, my balance. The sudden conflagration of sound is unexpected. I hadn't even noticed the lost sense.

At full strength again, I glance around the clearing, eyes flitting from any potential hiding place to the next. A dizzy soldier on the ground near me grabs my leg, but I kick him off with ease. I regret the lost opportunity; under normal circumstances, I could have killed dozens of helpless soldiers already. I feel a tinge of unease at the thought. _Guess I'm still half-way human. _I continue to scan the clearing, and suddenly, I see a flicker out of the corner of my eye. I turn around, and leap out of the way of the oncoming spell just in time to avoid the worst of it. As soon as it connects with the ground behind me, it explodes like any fireball, but with the relative magnitude of a shout. I clap my hands over my eyes, and stumble forward, but manage to avoid the worst of the shockwave. Again, I'm forced to search frantically for the source of the magic before the caster has a chance to attack again.

Then, three things happen at once. Firstly, the remainder of the Brotherhood rushes out of the sanctuary, Astrid and Cicero slashing like tiny whirlwinds while the magic users flee to a safer point to shoot from. Secondly, the vast majority of the soldiers recover, attracting most of my attention. And thirdly, I notice a small man in a blue robe crouching behind a tree, hands sparking with pent-up energy. His eyes narrow at me, and he clenches his right hand into a fist. A fireball forms around it, and just as he releases it, I shout.

"**FUS RO DAH**!" As soon as the wave of blue force impacts the fire, it explodes with a deafening boom. I fly back, slamming painfully against a tree. The battlemage, however, isn't so lucky. The shout had pushed the fire back into him, essentially pummeling the man with a giant, burning fist. His scorched, broken body is laying just a few yards from where he was originally hiding.

Without warning, the recovered stormcloaks surround me. I'm up in a second, catching a swinging blade on the hilt of my left dagger, while slashing across the face of another soldier with the right one. A man swings his war axe at me, and I duck under the blow, weaving under his outstretched body, and in a flash, I slam my shoulder upward into his stomach. He flips over my head, and knocks over a fresh wave of attackers. My twin blades wreak havoc on the fallen soldiers.

The fighting continues for hours. Slowly, I begin to to tire. My arms start to feel leaden, and I begin to acquire numerous cuts and bruises. My entire body throbs, like one giant wound. My wrists and hands are numb from absorbing the impact of so many blows, and my chest aches from multiple bruised and broken ribs. My mind begins to fog, and the connection between it and my limbs grows sluggish.

As I cut down yet another stormcloak, the one to his left raises his massive warhammer. My shoulders ache as I scream at them to move, to swing my dagger through the wooden haft of the weapon like a hot knife through butter, but they refuse to budge. But just as the man's arms begin to descend, his head is removed form his shoulders. In his place stands Arnbjorn, once again in human form, giant battleaxe bloody. His armor is in tatters, and his left arm is gushing blood, but he's grinning proudly.

"We did it." He rumbles, beaming at me like a proud father.

"What?" I ask, dizzy beyond comprehension. I sway dangerously, and lean against a tree. The hulking nord drops his axe, and grabs me by the shoulders, steadying me.

"They're all dead, Daanik." He growls, eyes sparkling. "We won!"

Suddenly, my mind processes his words, and instantly my vision sharpens, and the dizziness is gone. Relief sweeps through my veins. "We did it…" I sigh, heavily. "Is everyone…?"

Arnbjorn's face darkens. "I'm not sure. Each of us got split off, fighting our own group of stormcloaks. I just got done myself, and you're the first person that I've seen."

I nod grimly, and heave myself off the tree to join the nord. We begin walking, searching for any sign of our family, listening for the tell-tale clash of steel against steel. It seemed, that as the hours had progressed, the fighting had spread further and further away from the sanctuary, becoming a spread out mass of corpses. I grimace, as my boot squelches in the blood-soaked wound of a fallen soldier's body. I shiver. Killing in the form of an assassination was one thing, but this…this was different. Assassinations were clean, precise, and required an element of grace. _This type of slaughter is barbaric. _The sight of so many bodies, torn to shreds, chills me.

Suddenly, a battle cry startles me from my thoughts. I recognize Nazir's voice, and call out to him, grateful for the distraction. After a moment, the redguard bursts out of the trees in front of Arnbjorn and I, panting heavily and dripping blood. His arm hangs limply at his side, but like the werewolf, his eyes shine with a fierce joy.

"You're alive!" He beams at us, sheathing his curved scimitar.

I nod, smiling back weakly. "Have you seen anyone else?" I ask, handing the man my last healing potion. He downs it gratefully, while nodding in answer to my question.

"Yea. Veezara's over there, laying on a boulder. Don't be alarmed when you see him; he's fine. Or rather, he will be. Babette and Festus are working on him now." He grimaces in sympathy for his friend. "He got a sword through the side, but it's nothing a little magic won't take care of." He gestures for us to follow. "Come on, I'll take you to him."

We follow the redguard for a short while, until we come to a shallow riverbed. Veezara is laying on a long, flat rock, basking in the remnants of the setting sun while the two mages heal his already-recovering wound.

"Brothers!" He hisses delightedly, and attempts to get up. Festus shoots him a withering glare, and the argonian dutifully lays back down. He shrugs, apologetically.

"Good to see that you're recovering." I smile tiredly, walking over to a nearby log and sitting down heavily. I cup my face in my hands, trying to sort through the recent events. _It's only been a single day…_

"You all made it." A silky voice states from behind me. I turn around just in time to catch a glimpse of a very battle-worn Astrid, before a giggling, multicolored blur barrels into me.

"Ooooo, the Listener is alright! Cicero is so very glad, yes he is!" The little jester cackles in childish delight, and I can't help but laugh at his affection. Thankfully, he pulls away just as quickly as he'd come. I move to look at him, and gasp. He's covered from head to toe in blood, literally leaving footprints of it as he walks.

"By the gods, are you alright?" I demand, trying to find the source of the red liquid.

For a moment, Cicero looks confused. He looks down at his lithe body, brow furrowed in concentration. Then his face lights up, and he grins widely. "Ooohhh yes, Cicero is well. Unscathed. Not hurt. Free from trauma, as it were." He explains, nodding seriously. "None of this is Cicero's blood." He finishes, with a smile that I'm sure was meant to be reassuring.

"Okay." I sigh, refusing to question the antics of the jester at a time like this. _I guess he looks stable enough. Physically, anyway._

I direct my attention towards Astrid. She's leaning on a tree, and swaying heavily. She looks like she was injured worse than the rest of us. She doesn't seem to be able to put weight onto her right ankle, and there's a line of blood running from somewhere on her back, down to her leg. I can't make out the extent of the wound though. Other than those two, no major injuries are visible. Still, she looks ready to drop. Arnbjorn hurries over to her, and she leans on his massive shoulder gratefully. "Are you alright?" I ask, then grimace at the stupidity of the question.

The blonde woman laughs sharply. "All things considered, yes."

I grunt in agreement, as the white-haired werewolf lets his wife down onto a boulder near Veezara. She sits up, stretching her injured leg out in front of her, and grimaces at the movement. "What parts of you aren't alright, then?" I ask, amending my question.

"Ankle's broken." She mutters through clenched teeth. "So are a few ribs, a finger, and I've got a nasty cut on my back. I don't know how deep it is, though."

Festus rushes over, having finished with Veezara. The argonian gets up as well, joining the rest of the Brotherhood, as we gather around our broken matron. We hover around the grim-faced woman, anxiously tugging at various pieces of armor, or playing with the hilts of weapons, waiting on Festus's diagnosis with bated breath. Astrid coughs, and blood sprays on the rock in front of her. Babette whimpers, and Nazir shifts uneasily. Arnbjorn lets out a low growl. Festus is silent, but closes his eyes, and rests his hands just over the slash in Astrid's back. His wrinkled face twists in concentration, and a golden light shimmers around his palms.

The seconds tick by, one by one, with no change in the woman's state to show for it. Her eyelids begin to flutter, and the werewolf curses. But then suddenly, finally, golden light erupts from the old mage's hands, and Astrid's wounds are knit themselves back together in seconds. Nazir cheers, Veezara laughs, and Arnbjorn sighs in relief. I grin through my exhaustion, amazed that we all survived the day. And then, Babette pipes up.

"Where's Gabriella?" She asks, confused.

**The next chapter will be the last one, outside of the epilogue. I'll post the name of the sequel in the latter. Review!**


	22. Chapter 22

**EDIT: Just wanted to let you all know that the first chapter of the sequel is FINALLY up, under the title of "Grasping at Stars". I know I'm terribly late, and I apologize. But you should go check it out, because it's pretty good :D**

**A/N: See, it didn't take me as long this time ;) Please, enjoy the chapter. And leave me a review.**

**CHAPTER 22**

_No. No, no, no, no, no. _I repeat the single syllable over and over again, both mentally and verbally, in a low voice, barely a whisper. Festus had pointed me in the direction that the magic-users had all gone, and I'd sprinted away before he could even finish his sentence.

I find it strange, that at a time like this, I'm not in any visible turmoil. My face isn't twisted in a snarl, or in an expression of anguish. It's completely blank; lips pressed into a hard line, teeth clenched, but nothing else. My mind is extremely sharp, perfectly focused on pushing back any form of emotion or distraction, and keeping the shout active and fast. My eyes note every possible obstacle in a split second, assessing it's potential, and avoiding it with efficient fluidity. My entire being is focused on the task at hand.

I run for no more than thirty seconds, before I realize exactly where I'm headed. _Of course; it's the perfect vantage point. They could easily see everything from up there, spread out underneath them. _Against my best efforts, a pang jolts through me, and the break in my concentration nearly causes me to fall. I right myself quickly, however, and push the troubling thought from my mind.

After another minute, I approach my destination. I steel myself, and fly through the trees and out onto my perch. Anger, and a sense of wry destiny flash through my head, as I think of the bitter irony of the situation. _This is the place where I'd always sit, and watch the sky. This is where Gabriella had kissed me for the first time, and where I'd told her that I loved her. The same ledge that she had almost fallen off, and I had been more scared than ever before in my life. This was where I felt the safest._

I skid to a halt, and look around, desperate for any sign of my beautiful elf. _Come on, come on. Please be here. Fuck. Please._ But there's nothing here. Only long, green grass, shifting in the breeze, and a tauntingly breathtaking sunset.

And then, a voice from the edge of the cliff speaks my name.

"Daanik!"

_Gabriella's voice! _I stare excitedly at the spot from where her voice seemed to originate, but I see nothing. For a moment, I wonder if I'm that insane, if I could have imagined it. But then, right before my eyes, the air flickers, and a slim, dark-robed figure emerges from nothingness. Or rather, from the effects of an invisibility spell.

Relief makes my knees weak. _She's okay…she's okay. _Without her hood, her hair tumbles down her back in sleek, diamond waves. At the sight of me, her crimson eyes widen in happiness, and a smile splits her face. She has a cut on her cheek, and what looks like various other small injuries across her body, but seems to have fared better than anyone else.

"You're alright." She murmurs, walking towards me.

And then, I notice movement at the edge of my vision. A flash of blue, and a creaking sound. For a split second, I tilt my head in confusion, trying to place the observation. Then it hits me, and I scream.

"NO!" I yell, as the arrow is released. Gabriella's smile falters. _What can I do, what do I do? The arrow is going too fast. I don't have enough time to react, not enough time!_

"**TIID!**" I shout, and time around me becomes sluggish, but I remain untouched. I draw my dagger in a flash, watching as the feathered shaft, with it's viciously barbed tip, bores through the air and towards Gabriella. I raise the bloody knife high, and aim it directly for the arrow. I whip my arm down, and the blade whistles. I pray with every fiber of my being that it will find it's target.

The crimson dagger spins, razor tip over handle, flashing in the remaining light of the setting sun. My aim is perfect.

And then the shout wears off. The arrow flashes past my vision, and the dagger falls uselessly off the edge of the cliff. The bolt shaft strikes Gabriella in the side, at an angle, piercing her slim chest. Her body jerks around, and she falls.

Rage rips through me, pure fury such as I've never felt before. My blood boils, and I whirl around to face the archer. He's not wearing his helmet. I know, instinctively, that I'll never forget his face. He's young, no older than me, with blonde hair and an unmarked face. It's clear that he's never seen battle before. His features are twisted in terror and recognition; in grim acknowledgement that these are his last seconds on Nirn.

I don't even have the presence of mind to shout. My iron focus from earlier is gone, ripped apart like cobwebs before a storm. I let loose a terrifying scream, a roar of pain and hatred, and desperation. The dragon within me rears it's head, and adds it's roar to mine, releasing my thu'um in an incinerating conflagration of fire. The inferno slams into the soldier, cooking him in his armor and tossing his smoldering corpse off the edge of the overhang like a ragdoll.

Just as quickly as it came, the rage disappears, leaving me with nothing. Empty; without resolve of any kind. I run over to Gabriella, and kneel on the ground next to her. Her eyes are closed, and her breathing is shallow and raspy.

"No, Gabby, please, no..." I beg, tearing off part of her robe to bandage the wound. Her eyes flutter open.

"Daanik…" She whispers, and suddenly lets out a cry of pain. "It hurts, Daanik, please, it hurts…" She sobs, once.

"Shhh." I whisper. "You'll be okay. You'll be alright." My voice cracks. _They won't get here in time._ I realize. _Festus is out of magicka_. Gabriella cries out again, and I remember when our situations had been reversed, when she had nursed me back to health after being tortured by Hern. She sang to me. And, without really understanding why, I know it's the right thing to do. I know that it will comfort her.

So, I part my lips, and somehow remember the words.

"Don't you dare look out your window, darling everything's on fire. The war outside your door keeps raging on."

Her sobs quiet, as she realized what I'm doing. She smiles up at me, through tear-stained eyes, their soft glow mimicking the sun behind us.

"Hold on, to this, lullaby, even when the music's gone."

I hear the rest of the Brotherhood arrive. Nazir moves to rush forward, but Astrid stops him, shaking her head slightly. Babette whimpers, stifling a cry with her hand. Gabriella reaches out to cup my face, and I smile, as a tear makes it's way down my cheek.

"Just close your eyes, the sun is going down."

Just as I say the words, the last rays of light disappear below the horizon. The elf's hand slides back down, and her eyes flutter.

"You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now."

Gabriella's ruby orbs close, and her breathing stills. Tiny droplets fall onto her pine green skin, as I squeeze my own eyes shut, shaking the tears loose.

"Come morning light, you and I'll be safe, and, sound."

My voice breaks on the last word. The melody fades, and the silence takes over. A breeze stirs the air, grass, and trees around me, and a single petal of nightshade lands on Gabriella's chest. _Her favorite flower. _A chill settles over the clearing.

I stand up, clenching my fists to keep myself from shaking. It doesn't help. Tentatively, Astrid steps forward. "Daanik, I-"

"Bring me a shovel." I interrupt, voice flat and emotionless. I stare at the ground, refusing to meet anyone's gaze. Not wanting to see their pity.

The tall blonde nods, and steps back, motioning for everyone else to follow her. They all do, except for Babette. The un-child gives her matron a defiant glare, daring her to ask her to leave. Astrid sighs in acceptance, and looks back at me, green eyes full of pain. She departs silently, without leaving a single sign of her presence.

Babette and I look at each other from across the clearing. Her bottom lip quivers, and she rushes over to me, speed enhanced by her vampiric athleticism. She wraps her arms around my waist, and cries into my stomach, every bit the ten-year-old she looks like. I sit down, and she sits in my lap. I let my tears go, and begin to cry in earnest now. She leans against me, and I against her, finding minute bits of comfort in each other's sorrow.

I spend all night digging the grave. Or, preparing, would be a more accurate word. A grave needs a marker, with an inscription. I don't shed a single tear as my love is covered in dirt, by my own hand. Once the grave itself is finished, I head into the forest, and dig up five nightshade flowers, making sure to keep the roots intact. I head back into the clearing, and plant the deep purple flowers around the headstone. It was the best one that I could find: almost completely white, shot through with streaks of gray. It's about a foot long, and eight inches wide. I step back, staring numbly at the white stone, flanked by purple, trying to think of a fitting inscription. What simple phrase could describe the woman I love? I'd need volumes. I consider leaving the stone blank. But in the end, I decide to just write her name. I kneel next to the grave, leaning over the freshly turned earth to carve the letters into the stone. With my remaining dagger, I etch two words. Thankfully, they're relatively straight. _Gabriella Ashcrown._

I stand up, and look down at the grave. I feel a hand on my shoulder, and look up to see Amaril's golden eyes, staring intently at the headstone. He doesn't say a word, but he doesn't leave, either. His companionship is comforting.

I remember the first time I'd seen the strange elf. That was the night that Gabriella had had a nightmare. She knocked on my door in the middle of the night, freezing and lonely. My fists clench. It's hard to imagine that just two days ago, we'd been laying together in this exact spot.

Tears fill my eyes, but I wipe them away, as I whisper one last word.

"Goodbye."

I take one final look off the edge of the cliff. I see the sanctuary, and all of Falkreath forest spread out in front of me. As the sun begins to crest the horizon, pushing away the dark sky, I feel something shift within me. Deep in my mind, I know that a new chapter of my life is about to start. _But this isn't a rebirth. _I think, as I turn away. _This isn't the turning of a new leaf, or a clean slate._

I pull two items out my pocket. One is a small vial of black ink, while the other is a scroll for a simple healing spell. Babette had made the contents of the vial for me, at my request, a few weeks ago. It's a special concoction, meant to seep into the skin permanently, without the use of a needle. The scroll is the opposite; a spell to push old ink out of the skin.

I unroll the dry parchment, and a second later, the right side of my face begins to prickle. The slash-like marks near my eyebrow disappear, as the ink trickles off my skin without a trace. I crumple the now useless paper back into my pocket, then take off my gloves, exchanging them for an old, thin pair, so I don't stain my hands. I uncork the glass vial, and dip both my index and middle fingers of each hand into the ink. I close my eyes, and press my fingers to my eyelids. Slowly, I drag them diagonally across my cheekbones, then down the side of my face, ending in two sharp points pointing towards my adams apple.

The ink settles almost instantly. I take off the replacement gloves, and pull out my dagger to study my reflection in it's gleaming surface. I'm pleased with the results. The ink contrasts starkly with my blue eyes. _Perfect_. I look frightening. Much older, and fiercer. To my enemies, anyway. To myself, I'll always look mournful, never forgetting what I'd lost. As if crying black tears. I look up to ask a question, but Amaril is gone.

I arrive in Solitude a few days later. I hadn't returned to the sanctuary; all I have with me is my pack. In it is my Brotherhood armor, some food, and a couple of changes of clothes. My one remaining dagger is at my side, in it's sheathe. I don't regret the loss of my bow. In fact, I haven't felt much besides an icy chill for the past few days. I'm numb to the world.

I've been to the capitol before, on Companion business, so I know my way around. Since it's relatively early in the afternoon, I decide to carry out my plans today, instead of first staying at the local inn, the Winking Skeever. I stride by the marketplace plaza, and climb the stone steps up to Castle Dour. The guards at the entrance greet me as I pass. "Hail, Dragonborn." I reply with a quick nod, and pull open the heavy wooden door.

I enter an anteroom. Amaril is leaning against the wall in the far corner, as if waiting for me. At my arrival, he stands up, and follows me as I enter a smaller chamber. In it stands a table, covered in maps marked with red and blue flags, presumably representing stormcloak and imperial troop movements. A short, gray-haired man with a harsh voice is leaning over it, speaking to an amor-clad nord woman across from him. Though he looks old, his frame is wiry and strong. They stop talking as I approach.

"Yes?" The man, General Tullius, barks.

I take a deep breath, as I feel the current of events begin to flow. The ever-present chill increases, and I straighten up, in physical preparation for what I'm going to do next.

"I want to join the legion."

The general's face relaxes. "Ah. And what makes you qualified to fight in the Emperor's army?"

I answer wryly. "I'm going to kill Ulfric Stormcloak."

Tullius lets out a short laugh. "As good a reason as any." He steps back, assessing me with an experienced eye. After a few seconds, he grunts, apparently satisfied with his observations. He turns to a cabinet on his left, and pulls out a smooth document, and a charcoal pencil. "You're hired." He sets the items in front of me, and points to a line at the bottom of the form. "Sign here, and you'll be an official legionnaire."

I pick up the pencil, staring intently at the paper. Amaril and I share a glance, and I smile coldly. I look back down at the document, and write two words.

_Daanik Broken-heart._

**A/N: And so ends, "When Mourning Comes". I really hoped that those of you who stuck with me enjoyed it. I'm massively grateful for all the support, and for all the reviews that have inspired me to continue writing. Thank you so, so much. The sequel to this story will be called "Sundered". I will most likely change the name at some point, but if I do, I'll make sure to let you guys know. Again, thank you. It's been an amazing first-story experience :)**

**EDIT: Yea, the title changed. Scroll to the top to find it ;)**


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